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English • Classic • Series 

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GRANDFATHERS CHAIR 



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Nathaniel Hawthorne 



■i^i^i_i^i_i_i_i_i.,i_i_i.,i^i 



NEW YORK 

Maynard, Merrill <5c Co. 

43,45 <&! 47 East lOIiJ St. 



J 



ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES, 

FOR 

Classes in English Literature, Reading", Grammar, etc 

EDITED BY EMINENT ENGLISH AND AMERICAN SCHOLARS, 

Each Volume contains a Sketch of the Author's Life, Prefatofy and 
Explanatory Notes, etc., etc. 



1 Byron's Prophecy of Dante. 

(Cantos I. and II.) 

2 Milton's Li'Allegro, and II Pen- 

seroso. 

3 LiOvd Bacon's Essays, Civil and 

Moral. (Selected.) 

4 Byron's Prisoner of Chillon. 

5 Moore's Fire Worshippers. 

(Lalia Kookh. Selected.) 

6 Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 

7 Scott's Marniion. (Selections 

from Canto VI.) 

8 Scott'sLay of theL,ast Minstrel. 

(Introduction and Canto I.) 

9 Burns'sCotter'sSaturday Night, 
! and other Poems. 

1 10 Crabbe's The Village. 

1 11 Campbell's Pleasures of Hope. 
j (Abridgment of Part I. ) 

13 Macavilay's Essay on Bunyan's 

I Pilgrim's Progress. 

1 13 Macaulay's Armada, and other 
Poems. 

! 14 Shakespeare's Merchant of Ve- 
nice. (Selections from Acts I., 
III., and IV.) 

15 Goldsmith's Traveller. 

16 Hogg's Queen's Wake, and Kil- 

meiiy. 

17 Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. 

18 Addison's Sir lloger de Cover- 

ley. 

19 Gray's Elegy in a Country 

Churchyard. 

20 Scott's L.ady of the Lake. (Canto 

I.) 

21 Shakespeare's As Ton r.ike It, 

etc. (Selections.) 

83 Shakespeare's King John, and 

Kichard II. (Selections.) 
23 Shakespeare's Henry IV., Hen- 
ry V., Henry VI. (Selections.) 

84 Shakespeare's Henry VIII., and 

Julius Cajsar. (Selections.) 

25 Wordsworth's Excursion. (Bk.I.) 

26 Pope's Essay on Criticism. 

27 Spenser'sFaerieQueene. (Cantos 

I. and II.) 

28 Cowper's Task. (Book I.) 

29 Milton's Comus. 

30 Tennyson's Enoch Arden, The 

I..otus Eaters, Clysses, and 
Tithonus. 



31 Irving's Sketch Book. (Sele( 

tions.) 

32 Dickens's Christmas Caro 

(Condensed.) 
ii3 Carlyle's Hero as a Prophet. 

34 Macaulay's W^arren Hasting; 

(Condensed.) 

35 Goldsmith's Vicar of W^ak* 

field, (Condensed.) 

36 Tennyson's The Two Voice 

and A Dream of Fair Womei 
3 7 Memory Quotations. 

38 Cavalier Poets. 

39 Dryden's Alexander's Feas 

and MacFlecknoe. 

40 Keats's The Eve of St. Agnes. 

41 Irving.'s Legend of Sleepy Ho 

low. 

42 Lamb's Tales from Shak< 

speare. 

43 L.e Row's How to Teach Rea< 

ing. 

44 Webster's Bunker Hill Ors 

tions. 

45 The Academy Orthoepist. I 

Manual of Pronunciation. i 

46 Milton's Lycidas, and Hym I 

on the Nativity. I 

47 Bryant's Thanatopsis, andothtj 

Poems. I 

48 Buskin's Modern Painter 

(Selections.) 

49 The Shakespeare Speaker. 

50 Thackeray's Roundabout F: 

pers. 

51 "Webster's Oration on Adan 

and Jeflf'erson. 

52 Brown's liab and his Friends. 
.53 Morris's Life and Death « 

Jason. , 

54 Burke's Speech on America! 

Taxation. 

55 Pope's Rape of the I<ock. 

56 Tennyson's Elaine. 

57 Tennyson's In Memoriam. 

58 Church's Story of the ^neid. 

59 Church's Story of the Iliad. 

60 Swift's Gulliver's Voyage i 

Lilliput. 

61 Macaulay's Essay on Lord B; 

con. (Condensed.) 

62 The Alcestis of Euripides. En 

lish Version by Rev. R. Potter.M. 



(Additional numbers on nexijf)age.) 



MAYNARD'S ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES.-No. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 



PART I 



NATHANIET HAWTHORNE 



mith moQtnmcnl S^etcb 




NEW YORK 
MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO. 



^jV 



New Series, No. I20. February 23, 1893. Published Semi-weekly. Subscription 
Price $10. Entered at Post Office, New York, as Second-class Matter. 






A Complete Course in the Study of English. 



spelling, Language, Grammar, Composilion, Literature. 



Reed's Word Lessons— A Complete Speller. 
Reed's Introductory Language Work. 

Reed & Kellogg's Graded Lessons in English. 
Reed & Kellogg's Higher Lessons in English. 

Reed & Kellogg's One-Book Course in English. 
Kellogg & Reed's Word Building. 

Kellogg & Reed's The English Language. 
Kellogg's Text-Book on Rhetoric. 
Kellogg's Illustrations of Style. 

Kellogg's Text-Book on English Literature. 



In the preparation of this series the authors have had one object 
clearly in view — to so develop the study of the English language as 
to present a complete, progressive course, from the Spelling-Book to 
the study of English Literature. The troublesome contradictions 
which arise in using books arranged by different authors on these 
subjects, and which require much time for explanation in the. school- 
room, will be avoided by the use of the above " Complete Course." 

Teachers are earnestly invited to examine these books. 

MayNARD, Merrill, & Co., Publishers, 

43, 45, and 47 East Tenth St., New York. 



Copyright, 1896, by Maynard, Merrill, & Co. 



Biographical Sketch 



Nathaniel Hawthorne came of a stern, New England 
ancestry. The founder of the family in this country, William 
Hathorne (so spelled, but pronounced nearly as afterwards 
changed by Hawthorne), emigrated from England in 1630, 
and became a man of some prominence in the new country, 
a magistrate and deputy in the colonial assembly. His son, 
Judge John Hawthorne, was prominent in the Salem witch- 
craft persecutions, and earned an unenviable reputation for 
harsh judgments. His nature is well shown by the following 
account of a trial at which he presided. 

Of one accused woman brought before him, the husband 
wrote: "She was forced to stand with her arms stretched 
out. I requested that I might hold one of her hands, but it 
was declined me ; then she desired me to wipe the tears from 
her eyes, which I did ; then she desired that she might lean 
herself on me, saying she should faint. Justice Hathorne 
replied she had strength enough to torture these persons, and 
she should have strength enough to stand. I repeating some- 
thing against their cruel proceedings, they commanded me to 
be silent, or else I should be turned out of the room." 

The third son of Judge Hathorne was " Farmer Joseph," 
who lived and died peaceably at Salem. Joseph's fifth son, 
"Bold Daniel," became a privateersman in the Revolutionary 
War. Daniel's third son, Nathaniel, was born in 1775, and 
was the father of our author. 

Hawthorne's father was a sea-captain, reserved, melancholy^ 
and stern, and said to be fond of reading and of children. He 
married Elizabeth Manning, a descendant of Richard Manning, 



2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

of Dartmouth, England, and at Salem, Massachusetts, on 
July 4, 1804, Nathaniel Hawthorne, the author, was born. 

His father died four years after, arxd Hawthorne was 
brought up by his grandfather Manning, who paid for his 
education. 

In later life Hawthorne wrote that ' ' one of the peculi- 
arities " of his boyhood was ' ' a grievous disinclination to go 
to school." He appears to have been an adventurous boy, 
fond of all outdoor exercises, until an accident in playing ball 
injured his foot. This lameness lasted a long while and re- 
stricted his boyish activity so that he took to reading as a 
pastime. His letters written at this time contain frequent 
allusions to books, and also occasional scraps of poetry. 

In 1821 Hawthorne entered Bowdoin College, where he had 
the good fortune to be a classmate of Longfellow. Another 
classmate was Jonathan Cilley, afterwards a member of Con- 
gress. Franklin Pierce, afterwards President of the United 
States and an intimate friend, was at that time a sophomore. 

These friendships appear to have been about all that he 
gained from his college life. "I was an idle student," he 
wrote in after years, " negligent of college rules and the Pro- 
crustean details of academic life, rather choosing to nurse my 
own fancies than to dig Greek roots and be numbered among 
the learned Thebans." His extreme shyness is shown by the 
fact that he regularly paid fines rather than make declama- 
tions. 

Hawthorne graduated in 1825, and returned to Salem, where 
he settled in the gloomy old family mansion and began to 
write ; at first tentatively, and later with the avowed purpose 
of making literature his profession. In his " Note Book," 
under date of October 4, 1840, he says: "Here I sit in this 
accustomed chamber where I used to sit in days gone by. . . . 
Here I have written many tales, — many that have been burned 
to ashes, many that doubtless deserve the same fate. . . . and 
here I sat a long, long time, waiting patiently for the world 
to know me, and sometimes wondering why it did not know 
me sooner, or whether it would ever know me at all, — at 
least, till I were in my grave." 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 3 

He finally published some tales in the magazines, but these 
hardly served the purpose of bringing him fairly before the 
public. " It was like a man talking to himself in a dark 
place," he said. 

It was not until March, 1837, that Hawthorne succeeded in 
getting a volume, the first series of " Twice Told Tales," pub- 
lished. It brought him an excellent review by Longfellow, 
of which a portion is given in the " Critical Opinions," and 
brought him before the world of letters as an accredited 
author ; but financially was not fortunate, as the sales barely 
paid the cost of publication. Before long, however, the young 
author's necessities were relieved by an appointment to the 
Boston Custom House as weigher and ganger at a salary of 
$1,200. This was hardly a congenial occupation for a man of 
a poetical temperament, but Hawthorne made the best of it, 
and, at the end of his tenure of office (he was removed by a 
change of administration) had saved one thousand dollars 
from his salary. 

Carlyle at this time was speaking to the youth of America 
through Emerson with a voice of thunder, and transcendent- 
alism was abroad in the land. Hawthorne's friends, the Pea- 
bodys, were Emersonian enthusiasts, and it was probably 
through their influence that he was drawn into the Brook 
Farm community, which seemed to promise an economical 
retreat, where he could find congenial society and the leisure 
to write. He embarked his thousand dollars in this enter- 
prise, and arrived at Brook Farm, April 12, 1841. This com- 
munity was an unconventional society of cultivated men and 
women, sick of politics, and hoping by a communal existence 
to release much time for the development of their individual 
genius. 

Hawthorne remained in the community about a year. But 
before he left he had made the discovery that he had never 
been really there in heart. "The real Me was never an asso- 
ciate of the community ; there has been a spectral Appearance 
there, sounding the horn at daybreak, and milking the cows, 
and hoeing potatoes, and raking hay, toiling in the sun, and 
doing me the honor to assume my name. But this spectre 



4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

was not myself." But the great eye of Hawthorne was there, 
and every scene was pictured on it. It was the sufficient 
raison d'etre of Brook Farm that it produced that truly Amer- 
ican novel " The Blithedale Romance." 

Hawthorne was married in 1843, and went to live at " The 
Old Manse " at Concord, Massachusetts. Here he spent four 
happy years, enjoying the society of Emerson, Thoreau, 
EUery Channing, — who, Emerson said, wrote "poetry for 
poets " — and of other cultivated men and women. 

In 1846 Hawthorne was appointed Surveyor of Customs at 
Salem, Massachusetts. He held this position until 1849, but, 
as the office must have been irksome to him, and the Salem 
people did not treat him with any geniality, he was probably 
not sorry when a change of administration ousted him from 
his position. 

Once more he settled down to steady literary work, with 
the result that in 1850 " The Scarlet Letter" appeared, and 
achieved such a marked success that he was enabled to re- 
move to Lenox, Massachusetts. His next book was "The 
House of Seven Gables." In 1851 he removed to West New- 
ton, Massachusetts, where "The Blithedale Romance" was 
written, and in 1852 he moved again to Concord. 

In 1853 Hawthorne was appointed United States Consul to 
Liverpool, and for six years nothing appeared from his pen. 
His stay in England seems to have been a failure. He met 
none of the great men of letters, then so numerous in Eng- 
land, except the Brownings. He never really liked the Eng- 
lish, and after they had read his " Our Old Home," they very 
generally felt the same toward him. It is in this volume that 
he describes Englishwomen as made up of steaks and sirloins, 
a remark which not unnaturally stirred up a strong feeling of 
resentment in England. 

After leaving Liverpool in 1857, Hawthorne and his family 
travelled south, and in January, 1858, they settled in Rome. 
Except for the illness of his eldest daughter, the next two 
years were among the happiest of Hawthorne's life. He en- 
joyed the society he met in Rome ; W. W. Story the eminent 
sculptor, the historian Motley, William CuUen Bryant, Mrs. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 5 

Jameson and other cultivated people being his intimates. He 
had come to Rome, however, merely as a pleasant excursion, 
having little or no knowledge of art, and no taste for ruins, so 
that it was some time before he began to take Rome seriously. 
The stay bore fruit w^ien he returned to England on his way 
back to America, in the form of " The Marble Faun," probably 
his most popular book. 

In 1860 Hawthorne settled again in Concord with the inten- 
tion of giving himself up to his literary work, but it was not 
to be for long. Presently the war broke out, and he became 
gloomy and unable to work, and in 1864 he died when on a 
trip to New Hampshire with his old friend, Franklin Pierce. 
He was buried at Concord, on May 24, 1864. 

This slight sketch may fitly close by a description of Haw- 
thorne's personal appearance by his friend and biographer, 
Moncure D. Conway. 

" He impressed me — the present writer — as of much nobler 
presence than formerly, and certainly he was one of the finest- 
looking of men. I observed him closely at a dinner of the 
Literary Club, in Boston, tlie great feature of which was the 
presence of Hawthorne, then just from Europe (July, 1860). 
His great athletic frame was softened by its repose, which was 
the more striking beside the vivacity of Agassiz, at whose 
side he sat — himself a magnificent man in appearance. Haw- 
thorne's massive brow and fine aquiline nose were of such 
commanding strength as to make the mouth and chin seem a 
little weak by contrast. The upper lip was hidden by a thick 
moustache ; the under lip was somewhat too pronounced, per- 
haps. The head was most shapely in front, but at the back 
was singularly flat. This peculiarity appears in a bust of 
Hawthorne now in possession of his friend and banker, Mr. 
Hooker, at Rome. It is by Phillips, and is especially interest- 
ing as representing the author in early life, before the some- 
what severe mouth was modified by a moustache. The eyes 
were at once dark and lucid, very large but never staring, 
incurious, soft and pathetic as those of a deer. When ad- 
dressed, a gracious smile accompanied his always gentle 
reply, and the most engaging expression suffused his warm 



6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

brown face. The smile, however, was sweet only while in 
the eyes ; when it extended to the mouth it seemed to give 
him pain. There must have been battles between those soft 
eyes and this mouth. His voice was sweet and low, but sug- 
gested a reserve of quick and powerful intelligence. In con- 
versation, the trait that struck me most was his perfect candor. 
There was no faintest suggestion of secrecy. I have a suspi- 
cion that his shyness was that of one whose heart was without 
bolts or bars, and who felt himself at the mercy of every 
' interviewer' that might chance to get hold of him." 



PREFACE 



IiS" writing this ponderous toipe, the author's 
desire has been to describe the eminent char- 
acters and remarkable events of our early annals 
in such a form and style that the young might 
make acquaintance with them of their own ac- 
cord. For this purpose, while ostensibly relating 
the adventures of a chair, he has endeavored to 
keep a distinct and unbroken thread of authentic 
history. The chair is made to pass from one to 
another of those personages of whom he thought 
it most desirable for the young reader to have 
vivid and familiar ideas, and whose lives and 
actions would best enable him to give picturesque 
sketches of the times. 

There is certainly no method by which the 
shadowy outlines of departed men and women 
can be made to assume the hues of life more 
effectually than by connecting their images with 
the substantial and homely reality of a fireside 
chair. It causes us to feel at once that these 
characters of history had a private and familiar 
existence, and were not wholly contained within 
that cold array of outward action which we are 



» PREFACE 

compelled to receive as the adequate represen- 
tation of their lives. If this impression can be 
given, much is accomplished. 

Setting aside Grandfather and his auditors, 
and excepting the adventures of the chair, which 
form the machinery of the work, nothing in the 
ensuing pages can be termed fictitious. The 
author, it is ti*ue, has sometimes assumed the 
license of filling up the outline of history with 
details for which he has none but imaginative 
authority, but which, he hopes, do not violate 
nor give a false coloring to the truth. He be^ 
lieves that, in this respect, his narrative will not 
be found to convey ideas and impressions of 
which the reader may hereafter find it necessary 
to purge his mind. 

The author's great doubt is, whether he has 
succeeded in writing a book which will be read- 
able by the class for whom he intends it. To 
make a lively and entertaining narrative for 
children, with such unmalleable material as is 
presented by the sober, stern, and rigid char- 
acteristics of the Puritans and their descendants, 
is quite as difliicult an attempt as to manufacture 
delicate playthings out of the granite rocks on 
which New England is founded. 

Boston, November, 1840. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 



FART I 



CHAPTER I 



Grandfather had been sitting in his old arm- 
chair all that x>leasant afternoon, while the chil- 
dren were pursuing their various s|)orts far off 
or near at hand. Sometimes you would have 
said, "Grandfather is asleep) "; but still, even 5 
when his eyes were closed, his thoughts were 
with the young people, playing among the 
iiowers and shrubbery of the garden. 

He heard the voice of Laurence, who had 
taken iDOssession of a heap of decayed branches 10 
which the gardener had lopped from the fruit 
trees, and was building a little hut for his 
cousin Clara and himself. He heard Clara's 
gladsome voice, too, as she weeded and w^atered 
the flower-bed which had been given her for her 15 
own. He could have counted every footstep 
that Charley took, as he trundled his wheel- 
barrow along the gravel walk. And though 



lO GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

Grandfather was old and gray-liaired, yet his 
heart leaped with joy whenever little Alice came 
fluttering, like a butterfly, into the room. She 
had made each of the cliildren her playmate in 

5 turn, and now made Grandfather her playmate 
too, and thought him the merriest of them all. 

At last the children grew weary of their 
sports ; because a summer afternoon is like a 
long lifetime to the young. So they came into 

10 the room together, and clustered round Grand- 
father's great chair. Little Alice, who was 
hardly five years old, took the privilege of the 
youngest, and climbed his knee. It was a pleas- 
ant thing to behold that fair and golden-haired 

15 child in the lax) of the old man, and to think 
that, different as they were, the hearts of both 
could be gladdened with the same joys. 

"Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her 
head back upon his arm, " I am very tired now. 

20 You must tell me a story to make me go to 
sleep." 

" That is not what story-tellers like," answered 
Grandfather, smiling. ' ' They are better satisfied 
when they can keep their auditors awake." 

25 "But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," 
cried cousin Clara, Avho was twice as old as little 
Alice. "We will all three keep wide awake. 
And pray. Grandfather, tell us a story about 
this strange-looking old chair." 
Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR II 

made of oak, which had grown dark with age, 
but had been rubbed and polished till it shone as 
bright as mahogany. It was very large and 
heavy, and had a back that rose high above 
Grandfather's white head. This back was curi- 5 
ously carved in open-work, so as to represent 
flowers, and foliage, and other devices, whicli 
the children had often gazed at, but could never 
understand what they meant. On the very tip- 
top of the chair, over the head of Grandfather 10 
himself, was a likeness of a lion's head, which 
had such a savage grin that you would almost 
expect to hear it growl and snarl. 

The children had seen Grandfather sitting in 
this chair ever since they could remember any- 15 
thing. Perhaps the younger of them supposed 
that he and the chair had come into the world 
together, and that both had always been as old 
as they were now. At this time, however, it 
happened to be the fashion for ladies to adorn 20 
their drawing rooms with the oldest and oddest 
chairs that could be found. It seemed to cousin 
Clara that, if these ladies could have seen Grand- 
father's old chair, they would have thought it 
worth all the rest together. She wondered if it 25 
were not even older than Grandfather himself, 
and longed to know all about its history. 

"Do, Grandfather, talk to us about this chair," 
she repeated. 

"Well, child," said Grandfather, patting 



12 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

Clara's cheek, ''I can tell you a great many 
stories of my chair. Perhaps your cousin Lau- 
rence would like to hear them, too. They will 
teach him something about the history and dis- 

5 tinguished people of his country which he has 
never read in any of his schoolbooks." 

Cousin Laurence was a boy of twelve, a bright 
scholar, in whom an early thoughtfulness and 
sensibility began to show themselves. His young 

10 fancy kindled at the idea of knowing all the 
adventures of this venerable chair. He looked 
eagerly in Grandfather's face ; and even Charley, 
a bold, brisk, restless little fellow of nine, sat 
himself down on the carpet, and resolved to be 

15 quiet for at least ten minutes, should the story 
last so long. 

Meantime, little Alice was already asleep ; so 
Grandfather, being much j)leased with such an 

\attentive audience, began to talk about matters 

2ol;hat had happened long ago. 

\ 



CHAPTER II 

Bit\T before relating the adventures of the chair, 
Grandfather found it necessary to speak of the 
circumstances that caused the first settlement of 
New England. For it will soon be perceived that 
the story of this remarkable chair cannot be told 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 13 

without telling a good deal of the history of the 
country. 

So Grandfather talked about the Puritans, as 
tliose persons were called who thought it sinful 
to practice the religious forms and ceremonies 5 
which the Church of England had borrowed from 
the Roman Catholics. These Puritans suffered 
so much persecution in England that, in 1607, 
many of them went over to Holland, and lived 
ten or twelve years at Amsterdam and Leyden. 10 
But they feared that, if they continued there 
much longer, they should cease to be English, 
and should adopt all the manners, and ideas, 
and feelings of the Dutch. For this and other 
reasons, in the year 1620 they embarked on 15 
board of the ship Mayflotoer^ and crossed the 
ocean to the shores of Cape Cod. There they 
made a settlement, and called it Plymouth, 
which, though now a part of Massachusetts, was 
for a long time a colony by itself. And thus 20 
was formed the earliest settlement of the Puri- 
tans in America. 

Meantime, tliose of the Puritans who remained 
in England continued to suffer grievous perse- 
cutions on account of their religious opinions. 25 
They began to look around them for some spot 
where they might worship God, not as the king 
and bishops thought fit, but according to the 
dictates of their own consciences. When their 
brethren had gone from Holland to America, 



14 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

they betlioiiglifc themselves that they likewise 
might find refuge from x^^rsecution there. 
Several gentlemen among them purchased a tract 
of country on the coast of Massachusetts Bay, 

5 and obtained a charter from King Charles, which 
authorized them to make laws for the settlers. 
In the year 1628 they sent over a few people, 
with John Endicott at their head, to commence 
a plantation at Salem. Peter Palfrey, Roger 

loConant, and one or two more had built houses 
there in 1626, and may be considered as the first 
settlers of that ancient town. Many other Puri- 
tans prepared to follow Endicott. 

"And now we come to the chair, m.y dear 

15 children," said Grandfather. "This chair is 
supposed to have been made of an oak tree which 
grew in the park of the English Earl of Lincoln 
between two and three centuries ago. In its 
younger days it used, probably, to stand in the 

20 hall of the earl's castle. Do not you see the coat 
of arms of the family of Lincoln carved in the 
open-work of the back % But when his daughter, 
the Lady Arbella, was married to a certain Mr. 
Johnson, the earl gave her this valuable chair." 

25 " AVho was Mr. Johnson ? " inquired Clara. 
"He was a gentleman of great wealth, who 
agreed with the Puritans in their religious 
opinions," answered Grandfather. "And as his 
belief was the same as theirs, he resolved that he 
would live and die with them. Accordingly, in 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 15 

the month of April, 1630, he left his pleasant 
abode and all his comforts in England, and 
embarked, with Lady Arbella, on board of a ship 
bound for America." 

As Grandfather was frequently impeded by 5 
the questions and observations of his young 
auditors, we deem it advisable to omit all such 
prattle as is not essential to the story. We 
have taken some pains to find out exactly what 
Grandfather said, and here offer to our readers, 10 
as nearly as x)ossible in his own words, the 
story of 

THE LADY ARBELLA 

The ship in which Mr. Johnson and' his lady 
embarked, taking Grandfather's chair along 
with them, was called the Arbella^ in honor of 15 
the lady herself. A fleet of ten or twelve vessels, 
with many hundred passengers, left England 
about the same time ; for a multitude of people, 
who were discontented with the king's govern- 
ment and oppressed by the bishops, were flock- 20 
ing over to the New World. One of the vessels 
in the fleet was that same Mayflower which had 
carried the Puritan pilgrims to Plymouth. And 
now, my children, I would have you fancy your- 
selves in the cabin of the good ship Arbella ; 2s 
because if you could behold the passengers 
aboard that vessel, you would feel what a bless- 
ing and honor it was for New England to have 



1 6 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

such settlers. They were the best men and 
women of their day. 

Among the passengers was John Winthrop, 
who had sold the estate of his forefathers, and 

5 was going to prepare a new home for his wife 
and children in the wilderness. He had the 
king's charter in his keeping, and was appointed 
the first Governor of Massachusetts. Imagine 
him a person of grave and benevolent aspect, 

lo dressed in a black velvet suit, with a broad ruff 
around his neck, and a peaked beard upon his 
chin. There was likewise a minister of the 
gospel whom the English bishops had forbidden 
to preach, but who knew that he should have 

15 liberty both to preach and pray in the forests 
of America. He wore a black cloak, called a 
Geneva cloak, and had a black velvet cap, fitting- 
close to his head, as was the fashion of almost 
all the Puritan clergymen. In their company 

20 came Sir Richard Saltonstall, who had been one 
of the ^-^Q first projectors of the new colony. 
He soon returned to his native country. But 
his descendants still remain in New England ; 
and the good old family name is as much 

25 respected in our days as it was in those of Sir 
Richard. 

Not only these, but several other men of 
wealth and pious ministers were in the cabin of 
the Arhella. One had banished himself forever 
from the old hall where his ancestors had lived 



GRAI^VfATHERS CHAIR 1 7 

for hundreds of years. Another had left his 
quiet parsonage, in a country town of England. 
Others had come from the universities of Oxford 
or Cambridge, where they had gained great fame 
for their learning. And here they all were, toss- 5 
ing upon the uncertain and dangerous sea, and 
bound for a home that was more dangerous than 
even the sea itself. In the cabin, likewise, sat 
the Lady Arbella in her chair, with a gentle and 
sweet expression on her face, but looking too 10 
jiale and feeble to endure the hardships of the 
wilderness. 

Every morning and evening the Lady Arbella 
gave up her great chair to one of the ministers, 
who took his place in it and read passages from 15 
the Bible to his companions. And thus, with 
prayers, and pious conversation, and frequent 
singing of hymns, which the breezes caught from 
their lips and scattered far over the desolate 
waves, they prosecuted their voyage, and sailed 20 
into the harbor of Salem in the month of June. 

At that period there were but six or eight 
dwellings in the town ; and these were miserable 
hovels, with roofs of straw and wooden chimneys. 
The i)assengers in the fleet either built huts with 25 
bark and branches of trees, or erected tents of 
cloth till they could provide themselves with 
better shelter. Many of them went to form a 
settlement at Charlestown. It was thought fit 
that the Lady Arbella should tarry in Salem 



1 8 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

for a time : she Avas probably received as a guest 
into the family of John Endicott. He was the 
chief person in the plantation, and had the only 
comfortable house which the new-comers had 

5 beheld since they left England. So now, chil- 
dren, you must imagine Grandfather's chair in 
the midst of a new scene. 

Suppose it a hot summer's day, and the lattice 
windows of a chamber in Mr. Endicott' s house 

lo thrown wide open. The Lady Arbella, looking 
paler than she did on shipboard, is sitting in her 
chair and thinking mournfully of far-oif Eng- 
land. She rises and goes to the window. There, 
amid patches of garden ground and cornfield, she 

15 sees the few wretched hovels of the settlers, with 
the still ruder wigwams and cloth tents of the 
passengers who had arrived in the same fleet 
with herself. Far and near stretches the dismal 
forest of pine trees, Avliich tlu^ow their b'ack 

20 shadows over the whole land, and likewise over 
the heart of this i)oor lady. 

All the inhabitants of the little village are 
busy. One is clearing a spot on the verge of the 
forest for his homestead : another is hewing the 

25 trunk of a fallen pine tree, in order to build 
himself a dwelling ; a third is hoeing in his field 
of Indian corn. Here comes a huntsman out of 
the woods, dragging a bear which he has shot, 
and shouting to the neighbors to lend him a 
hand. There goes a man to the seashore, with a 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 19 

spade and a bucket, to dig a mess of clams, 
wliicli were a iDrincipal article of food with the 
first settlers. Scattered here and there are two 
or three dusky figures, clad in mantles of fur, 
with ornaments of bone hanging from their ears, 5 
and the feathers of wild birds in their coal-black 
hair. They have belts of shell-work slung across 
their shoulders, and are armed with bows and 
arrows and flint-headed spears. These are an 
Indian Sagamore and his attendants, who have 10 
come to gaze at the labors of the white men. 
And now rises a cry that a pack of wolves have 
seized a young calf in the x>asture ; and every 
man snatches up his gun or pike and runs in 
chase of the marauding beasts. 15 

Poor Lady Arbella watches all these sights, 
and feels that this New World is fit only for 
rough and hardy people. None should be here 
but 'those who can struggle with wild beasts and 
wild men, and can toil in the heat or cold, and 20 
can keep their hearts firm against all difficulties 
and dangers. But she is not one of these. Her 
gentle and timid spirit sinks within her ; and, 
turning away from the window, she sits down in 
the great chair and wonders whereabouts in the 25 
wilderness her friends will dig her grave. 

Mr. Johnson had gone, with Governor Win- 
throp and most of the other passengers, to 
Boston, where he intended to build a house for 
Lady Arbella and himself. Boston was then 



20 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

covered with wild woods, and had fewer inhab- 
itants, even, than Salem. During her husband's 
absence, poor Lady Arbella felt herself growing 
ill, and was hardly able to stir from the great 

5 chair. Whenever John Endicott noticed her 
despondency, he doubtless addressed her Avith 
w^ords of comfort. " Cheer up, my good lady ! " 
he would say. "In a little time, you will love 
this rude life of the wilderness as I do." But 

loEndicott's heart was as bold and resolute as iron, 
and he could not understand why a woman's 
heart should not be of iron too. 

Still, however, he si^oke kindly to the lady, 
and then hastened forth to till his cornfield and 

15 set out fruit trees, or to bargain with the Indians 
for furs, or perchance to oversee the building of 
a fort. Also, being a magistrate, he had often 
to punish some idler or evil doer, by ordering 
him to be set in the stocks or scourged at the 

20 whipping-post. Often, too, as was the custom 
of the times, he and Mr. Higginson, the minister 
of Salem, held long religious talks together. 
Thus John Endicott was a man of muUifarions 
business, and had no time to look back regret- 

25 fully to his native land. He felt himself fit for 
the New World and for the work that he had to 
do, and set himself resolutely to accomplish it. 

AVhat a contrast, my dear children, between 
this bold, rough, active man, and the gentle 
Lady Arbella, who was fading away, like a pale 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 21 

English flower, in the shadow of the forest! 
And now the great chair w^as often empty, be- 
cause Lady Arbella grew too weak to arise from 
bed. 

Meantime, her husband had pitched upon a 5 
spot for their new home. He returned from 
Boston to Salem, traveling through the woods 
on foot, and leaning on his pilgrim's staff. His 
heart yearned within him ; for he was eager to 
tell his wife of the new Lome which he had 10 
chosen. But when he beheld her pale and 
hollow cheek, and found how her strength was 
wasted, he must have known that her aj^pointed 
home was in a better land. Happy for him then 
— happy both for him and her — if they remem-15 
bered that there was a path to heaven, as Avell 
from this heathen wilderness as from the Chris- 
tian land whence they had come. And so, in 
one short month from her arrival, the gentle 
Lady xlrbelhi faded away and died. They dug 20 
a grave for her in the new soil, where the roots 
of the i)ine trees impeded their spades ; and 
when her bones had rested there nearly two 
hundred years, and a city had sprung up around 
them, a church of stone was built upon the spot. 25 



Charley, almost at the commencement of the 
foregoing narrative, had galloped away, with 
a prodigious clatter, upon Grandfather's stick. 



22 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

and was not yet returned. So large a boy 
should have been ashamed to ride upon a stick. 
But Laurence and Clara had listened attentively, 
and were affected by this true story of the gentle 

5 lady who had come so far to die so soon. 
Grandfather had supposed that little Alice was 
asleep ; but toward the close of the story, hap- 
pening to look down upon her, he saw that her 
blue eyes were wide open, and fixed earnestly 

loupon his face. The tears had gathered in them, 
like dew upon a delicate flower ; but when 
Grandfather ceased to si^eak, the sunshine of 
her smile broke forth again. 

" Oh, the lady must have been so glad to get 

15 to heaven ! " exclaimed little Alice. 

" Grandfatlier, what became of Mr. Johnson ? " 
asked Clara. 

"His heart appears to have been quite broken," 
answered Grandfather ; ' ' for he died at Boston 

20 within a month after the death of his wife. He 
was buried in the ver}^ same tract of ground 
where he had intended to build a dwelling for 
Lady Arbella and himself. Where their house 
would have stood, there was his grave." 

25 "I never heard anything so melancholy," said 
Clara. 

" The people loved and respected Mr. Johnson 
so much," continued Grandfather, "that it was 
the last request of many of them, when they 
died, that they might be buried as near as pos- 



GRANDFATHER'S. CHAIR 23 

sible to this good man's grave. And so the field 
became the first burial-ground in Boston. When 
you pass through Tremont Street, along by King's 
Chapel, you see a burial-ground, containing many 
old gravestones and monuments. That was Mr. 5 
Johnson's field." 

"How sad is the thought," observed Clara, 
" that one of the first things which the settlers 
had to do, when they came to the New World, 
was to set apart a burial-ground ! " 10 

" Perhaps," said Laurence, " if they had found 
no need of burial-grounds here, they would have 
been glad, after a few years, to go back to 
England." 

Grandfather looked at Laurence, to discover 15 
whether he knew how profound and true a thing- 
he had said. 



CHAPTER III 

Not long after Grandfather had told the story 
of his great chair, there chanced to be a rainy 
day. Our friend Charley, after disturbing the 20 
household with beat of drum and riotous shouts, 
races uj) and down the staircase, overturning of 
chairs, and much other uproar, began to feel the 
quiet and confinement within doors intolerable. 
But as the rain came down in a flood the little 25 
fellow was hopelessly a prisoner, and now stood 



24 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

with sullen aspect at the window, wondering 
whether the sun itself were not extinguished by 
so much moisture in the sky. 

Charley had already exhausted the less eager 

5 activity of the other children ; and they had be- 
taken themselves to occupations that did not 
admit of his companionship. Laurence sat in a 
recess near the bookcase, reading, not for the first 
time, the "Midsummer Night's Dream." Clara 

lo was making a rosary of beads for a little figure 
of a Sister of Charity, who was to attend the 
Bunker Hill fair and lend her aid in erecting the 
monument. Little Alice sat on Grandfather's 
footstool, with a picture book in her hand ; 

15 and, for every picture, the child was telling 
Grandfather a story. She did not read from the 
book (for little Alice had not much skill in read- 
ing), but told the story out of her own heart and 
mind. 

20 Charley was too big a boy, of course, to care 
anything about little Alice's stories, although 
Grandfather appeared to listen with a good deal 
of interest. Often, in a young child's ideas and 
fancies, there is something which it requires the 

25 thought of a lifetime to comprehend. But Char- 
ley was of opinion that, if a story must be told, 
it had better be told by Grandfather than little 
Alice. 

"Grandfather, I want to hear more about youi 
chair," said he. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 25 

Now, Grandfather remembered that Charley 
had galloped away upon a stick in the midst of 
the narrative of poor Lady Arbella, and I know 
not whether he would have thought it worth 
while to tell another story merely to gratify 5 
such an inattentive auditor as Charley. But 
Laurence laid down his book and seconded the 
request. Clara drew her chair nearer to Grand- 
father ; and little Alice immediately closed her 
picture book and looked up into his face. 10 
Grandfather had not the heart to disappoint 
them. 

He mentioned several persons who had a share 
in the settlement of our country, and who would 
be well worthy of remembrance, if we could find 15 
room to tell about them all. Among the rest. 
Grandfather sj^oke of the famous Hugh Peters, a 
minister of the gospel, who did much good to 
the inhabitants of Salem. Mr. Peters afterward 
went back to England, and was chaplain to 20 
Oliver Cromwell ; but Grandfather did not tell 
the children what became of this upright and 
zealous man at last. In fact, his auditors were 
growing impatient to hear more about the 
history of the chair. 25 

"After the death of Mr. Johnson," said he, 
"Grandfather's chair came into the possession 
of Roger Williams. He was a clergyman, who 
arrived at Salem, and settled there, in 1631. 
Doubtless the good man has spent many a 



26 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

studious liour in this old chair, either penning 
a sermon or reading some abstruse book of 
theology, till midnight came uj^on him unawares. 
At that x^eriod, as there were few lamps or 

5 candles to be had, j)eople used to read or work 
by the light of pitch-pine torches. These sup- 
plied the place of the ' midnight oil ' to the 
learned men of New England." 

Grandfather went on to talk about Roger 

loAVilliams, and told the children several partic- 
ulars, which we have not room to repeat. One 
incident, however, Avhich was connected with his 
life, must be related, because it Avill give the 
reader an idea of the opinions and feelings of 

15 the first settlers of New England. It was as 
follows : 

THE KED CROSS 

While Roger Williams sat in Grandfather's 
chair at his humble residence in Salem, John 
Endicott would often come to visit him. As the 

20 clergy had great influence in temporal concerns, 
the minister and magistrate would talk over the 
occurrences of the day, and consult how the 
people might be governed according to scriptural 
laws. 

25 One thing especially troubled them both. In 
the old national banner of England, under which 
her soldiers have fought for hundreds of years, 
there is a Red Cross, which has been there ever 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 27 

since the days when England was in subjection 
to the Pope. The Cross, though a holy symbol, 
was abhorred by the Puritans, because they con- 
sidered it a relic of popish idolatry. Now, when- 
ever the train-band, of Salem was mustered, the 5 
soldiers, with Endicott at their head, had no 
other flag to march under than this same old 
papistical banner of England, with the Red Cross 
in the midst of it. The banner of the Red Cross, 
likewise, was flying on the walls of the fort of 10 
Salem ; and a similar one was displayed in 
Boston harbor, from the fortress on Castle 
Island. 

" I profess. Brother AVilliams," Captain Endi- 
cott would say, after they had been talking of 15 
this matter, "it distresses a Christian man's 
heart to see this idolatrous Cross flying over our 
heads. A stranger, beholding it, would think 
that we had undergone all our hardships and 
dangers, by sea and in the wilderness, only to 20 
get new dominions for the Pope of Rome." 

''Truly, good Mr. Endicott," Roger Williams 
would answer, " you si)eak as an honest man and 
Protestant Christian should. For mine own 
part, were it my business to draw a sword, 1 25 
should reckon it sinful to fight under such a 
banner. Neither can I, in my pulpit, ask the 
blessing of Heaven upon it." 

Such, probably, was the way in which Roger 
AVilliams and John Endicott used to talk about 



28 GRAAWFATHER'S CI/AIR 

the banner of the Red Cross. Endicott, who was 
a prompt and resolute man, soon determined that 
Massachusetts, if she could not have a banner of 
her own, slioukl at least be delivered from that of 

5 the Pope of Rome. 

Not long afterward there was a military muster 
at Salem. Every able-bodied man in the town 
and neighborhood was there. All were w^ell 
armed, with steel caps upon their heads, plates 

loof iron upon their breasts and at their backs, 
and gorgets of steel around their necks. When 
the sun shone upon these ranks of iron-clad men, 
they flashed and blazed with a splendor that be- 
dazzled the wild Indians who had come out of 

15 the woods to gaze at them. The soldiers had 

long x)ikes, swords, and muskets, which were 

fired with matches, and were almost as heavy as 

a small cannon. 

These men had mostly a stern and rigid aspect. 

20 To judge by their looks, you might have sup- 
posed that there was as much iron in their hearts 
as there was upon their heads and breasts. They 
were all devoted Puritans, and of the same tem- 
per as those with whom Oliver Cromwell after- 

25 ward overthrew the throne of England. They 
hated all the relics of popish superstition as 
much as Endicott himself ; and yet over their 
heads was displayed the banner of the Red 
Cross. 
Endicott was the captain of the company. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 29 

While the soldiers were exi3ecting his orders to 
begin their exercise, they saw him tal^e the ban- 
ner in one hand, holding his drawn sword in the 
other. Probably he addressed them in a speech, 
and explained how horrible a thing it was that 5 
men, who had lied from popish idolatry into the 
wilderness, should be compelled to fight under 
its symbols here. Perhaps he concluded his 
address somewhat in the following style : 

"And now, fellow soldiers, you see this old 10 
banner of England. Some of you, I doubt 
not, may think it treason for a man to lay 
violent hands upon it. But whether or no it 
be treason to man, I have good assurance in 
my conscience that it is no treason to God. 15 
Wherefore, I have resolved that we will rather 
be God's soldiers than soldiers of the Pope of 
Rome ; and in that mind I now cut the Papal 
Cross out of this banner." 

And so he did. And thus, in a province be- 20 
longing to the crown of England, a captain was 
found bold enough to deface the king's banner 
with his sword. 

AVhen Winthrop and the other wise men of 
Massachusetts heard of it they were disquieted, 25 
being afraid that Endicott's act would bring great 
trouble upon himself and them. An account of 
the matter was carried to King Charles ; but he 
was then so much engrossed by dissensions with 
his people that he had no leisure to punish the 



30 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

offender. In other times, it might have cost 
Endicott his life and Massachusetts her charter. 



"I should like to know, Grandfather," said 
Laurence, when the story was ended, " whether, 

5 when Endicott cut the Red Cross out of the ban- 
ner, he meant to imply that Massachusetts was 
independent of England ? " 

" A sense of the independence of his adopted 
country must have been in that bold man's 

lo heart," answered Grandfather; "but I doubt 
whether he had given the matter much considera- 
tion except in its religious bearing. However, it 
was a very remarkable affair, and a very strong 
expression of Puritan character." 

15 Grandfather proceeded to speak further of 
Roger Williams, and of other persons who sat 
in the great chair, as will be seen in the following 
chapter. 



CHAPTER IV 

"Roger AYilliams," said Grandfather, "did 
20 not keep possession of the chair a great while. 
His opinions of civil and religious matters dif- 
fered, in many respects, from those of the rulers 
and clergymen of Massachusetts. Now, the wise 
men of those days believed that the country 



GRA NDFA 7 'HER' S CHA IR 31 

could not be safe unless all the inhabitants 
felt and thought alike." 

" Does anybody believe so in our days, Grand- 
father? " asked Laurence. 

"Possibly there are some who believe it," said 5 
Grandfather ; " but they have not so mucli 
power to act upon their belief as the magistrates 
and ministers had in the days of Roger Williams. 
They had the power to deprive this good man of 
his home, and to send him out from the midst of 10 
tliem in search of a new place of rest. He was 
banished in 1634, and went first to Plymouth 
colony ; but as the people there held the same 
opinions as those of Massachusetts, he was not 
suffered to remain among them. However, the 15 
wilderness was wide enough ; so Roger Williams 
took his staff and traveled into the forest and 
made treaties with the Indians, and began a 
plantation which he called Providence." 

" I have been to Providence on the railroad," 20 
said Charley. " It is but a two hours' ride." 

"Yes, Charley," replied Grandfather; "but 
when Roger Williams traveled thither, over hills 
and valleys, and through the tangled woods, and 
across swamps and streams, it was a journey of 25 
several days. Well, his little xjlantation is now 
grown to be a populous city ; and the inhabitants 
have a great veneration for Roger Williams. His 
name is familiar in the mouths of all, because 
they see it on their bank-bills. How it w^ould 



32 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

have perplexed this good clergyman if he had 
been told that he should give his name to the 
Roger Williams Bank ! " 

" When he was driven from Massachusetts," 

5 said Laurence, '* and began his journey into the 
woods, he must have felt as if he were burying 
himself forever from the sight and knowledge of 
men. Yet the whole country has now heard of 
him, and will remember him forever." 

lo " Yes," answered Grandfather ; "it often hap- 
pens that the outcasts of one generation are those 
who are reverenced as the wisest and best of men 
by the next. The securest fame is that which 
comes after a man's death. But let us return to 

15 our story. When Roger Williams was banished, 
he appears to have given the chair to Mrs. Anne 
Hutchinson. At all events, it was in her j^osses- 
sion in 1637. She was a very sharp-witted and 
well-instructed lady, and was so conscious of her 

20 own wisdom and abilities that she thought it a 
pity that the world should not have the benefit 
of them. She therefore used to hold lectures in 
Boston once or twice a weel^, at which most of 
the women attended. Mrs. Hutchinson presided 

25 at these meetings, sitting with great state and 
dignity in Grandfather's chair." 

"Grandfather, Avas it positively this very 
chair?" demanded Clara, laying her hand upon 
its carved elbow. 

"Why not, my dear Clara r' said Grand- 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 33 

father. ^'Well, Mrs. Hutchinson's lectures soon 
caused a great disturbance ; for the ministers of 
Boston did not thinly it safe and proper that a 
woman should publicly instruct the people in re- 
ligious doctrines. Moreover, she made the mat- 5 
ter worse by declaring that the Rev. Mr. Cotton 
was the only sincerely pious and holy clergyman 
in New England. Now, the clergy of those days 
had quite as much share in the government of the 
country, though indirectly, as the magistrates 10 
themselves ; so you may imagine what a host of 
powerful enemies were raised up against Mrs. 
Hutchinson. A synod was convened ; that is 
to say, an assemblage of all the ministers in 
Massachusetts. They declared that there were 15 
eighty-two erroneous opinions on religious 
subjects diffused among the i)eople, and that 
Mrs. Hutchinson's opinions Avere of the number." 

"If they had eighty-two wrong opinions," 
observed Charley, "I don't see how they could 20 
have any right ones." 

"Mrs. Hutchinson had many zealous friends 
and converts," continued Grandfather. "She 
was favored by young Henry Yane, who had come 
over from England a year or two before, and had 25 
since been chosen Governor of the colony, at the 
age of twenty-four. But Winthroj) and most of 
the other leading men, as w^ell as the ministers, 
felt an abhorrence of her doctrines. Thus two 
opposite parties were formed ; and so fierce were 



34 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

the dissensions that it was feared the conse- 
quence would be civil war and bloodshed. But 
Winthrop and the ministers being the most 
powerful, they disarmed and imprisoned Mrs. 

5 Hutchinson's adherents. She, like Roger Wil- 
liams, was banished." 

"Dear Grandfather, did they drive the i3oor 
woman into the woods? " exclaimed little Alice, 
who contrived to feel a human interest even in 

lo these discords of polemic divinity. 

" They did, my darling," replied Grandfather; 
*'and the end of her life was so sad you must 
not hear it. At her departure, it apj)ears, from 
the best authorities, that she gave the great 

15 chair to her friend Henry Yane. He was a 
young man of wonderful talents and great learn- 
ing, who had imbibed the religious opinions of 
the Puritans, and left England with the inten- 
tion of spending his life in Massachusetts. The 

20 people chose him Governor; but the controversy 
about Mrs. Hutchinson, and other troubles, 
caused him to leave the country in 1G37. You 
may read the subsequent events of his life in the 
history of England." 

25 ''Yes, Grandfather," cried Laurence; "and 
we may read them better in Mr. Ux^ham's biog- 
raphy of Yane. And what a beautiful death he 
died, long afterward ! Beautiful, though it was 
on a scaffold." 

" Many of the most beautiful deaths have been 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 35 

there," said Grandfather. ''The enemies of a 
great and good man can in no other way make 
him so glorions as by giving him the crown of 
martyrdom." 

In order that the children might fnlly under- 5 
stand the all-important history of the chair, 
Grandfather now saw fit to speak of the progress 
that was made in settling several colonies. The 
settlement of Plymouth, in 1620, has already 
been mentioned. In 1635 Mr. Hooker and Mr. 10 
Stone, two ministers, went on foot from Massa- 
chusetts to Connecticut, through the pathless 
woods, taking their whole congregation along 
with them. They founded the town of Hartford. 
In 1638 Mr. Davenport, a very celebrated min-15 
ister, went with other people, and began a plan- 
tation at New Haven. In the same year, some 
persons who had been i^ersecuted in Massachu- 
setts went to the Isle of Rhodes, since called 
Rhode Island, and settled there. About this 20 
time, also, many settlers had gone to Maine, and 
were living without any regular government. 
There were likewise settlers near Piscataqua 
River, in the region which is now called New 
Hampshire. 25 

Thus, at various points along the coast of New 
England, there were communities of Englishmen. 
Though these commnnities were independent of 
one another, yet they had a common dependence 
upon England ; and, at so vast a distance from 



36 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

their native home, the inhabitants must all have 
felt like brethren. They were fitted to become 
one united people at a future period. Perhaps 
their feelings of brotherhood were the stronger 

5 because different nations had formed settlements 
to the north and to the south. In Canada and 
Nova Scotia were colonies of French. On the 
banks of the Hudson River was a colony of 
Dutch, who had taken possession of that region 

lo many years before, and called it New N ether- 
lands. 

Grandfather, for aught I know, might have 
gone on to speak of Maryland and Virginia ; for 
the good old gentleman really seemed to suppose 

15 that the wliole surface of the United States was 
not too broad a foundation to place the four legs 
of his chair upon. But, happening to glance at 
Charley, he perceived that this naughty boy was 
growing impatient and meditating another ride 

20 upon a stick. So here, for the present, Gj-rand- 
father suspended the history of his chair. 



CHAPTER y 

The children had now learned to look upon 

the chair with an interest which was almost the 

same as if- it were a conscious being, and could 

25 remember the many famous people whom it had 

held within its arms„ 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 37 

Even Charley, lawless as lie was, seerned to 
feel that this venerable chair must not be clam- 
bered upon nor overturned, although he had no 
scruple in taking such liberties with every other 
chair in the house. Clara treated it with still 5 
greater reverence ; often taking occasion to 
smooth its cushion, and to brush the dust from 
the carved flowers and grotesque figures of its 
oaken back and arms. Laurence would some- 
times sit a whole hour, especially at twilight, 10 
gazing at the chair, and, by the spell of his 
imaginations, summoning up its ancient occu- 
pants to appear in it again. 

Little Alice evidently employed herself in a 
similar way, for once when Grandfather had 15 
gone abroad, the child was heard talking with 
the gentle Lady Arbella, as if she were still sit- 
ting in the chair. So sweet a child as little 
Alice may fitly talk with angels, such as the 
Lady Arbella had long since become. 20 

Grandfather was soon importuned for more 
stories about the chair. He had no difficulty in 
relating them ; for it really seemed as if every 
person noted in our early history had, on some 
occasion or other, found repose within its com- 25 
fortable arms. If Grandfather took pride in 
anything, it was in being the possessor of such 
an honorable and historic elbow chair. 

"I know not precisely who next got posses- 
sion of the chair after Governor Vane went back 



38 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

to England," said Grandfather. "But there is 
reason to believe that President Dunster sat in 
it, when he held the first Commencement at Har- 
vard College. You have often heard, children, 

5 how careful our forefathers w^ere to give their 
young people a good education. They had 
scarcely cut down trees enough to make room 
for their own dwellings before they began to 
think of establishing a college. Their principal 

lo object was, to rear up i3ious and learned minis- 
ters ; and hence old writers call Harvard College 
a school of the prophets." 

"Is the college a school of the prophets now ?" 
asked Charley. 

15 "It is a long while since I took my degree, 
Charley. You must ask some of the recent 
graduates," answered Grandfather. "As I was 
telling you. President Dunster sat in Grand- 
father's chair in 1642, when he conferred the 

20 degree of Bachelor of Arts on nine young men. 
They were the first in America who had received 
that honor. And now, my dear auditors, I must 
confess that there are contradictory statements 
and some uncertainty about the adventures of 

25 the chair for a period of almost ten years. Some 
say that it was occux)ied by your owm ancestor, 
William Hawthorne, first Speaker of the House 
of Ilej)resentatives. I have nearly satisfied my- 
self, however, that, during most of this question- 
able period, it was literally the Chair of State. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 39 

It giv^es me much pleasure to imagine that sev- 
eral successive Governors of Massachusetts sat in 
it at the council board." 

"But, Grandfather," interposed Charley, who 
was a matter-of-fact little person, "what reason 5 
have you to imagine so ? " 

"Pray do imagine it, Grandfather," said Lau- 
rence. 

"With Charley's permission, I will," replied 
Grandfather, smiling. "Let us consider it 10 
settled, therefore, that Winthrop, Bellingham, 
Dudley, and Endicott, each of them, when 
chosen Governor, took his seat in our great chair 
on election day. In this chair, likewise, did 
those excellent Governors preside while holding 15 
consultations with the chief counselors of the 
province, who were styled assistants. The Gov- 
ernor sat in this chair, too, whenever messages 
were brought to him from the Chamber of Rep- 
resentatives." 20 

And here Grandfather took occasion to talk 
rather tediously about the nature and forms of 
government that established themselves, almost 
spontaneousl}^, in Massachusetts and the other 
New England colonies. Democracies w^ere the 25 
natural growth of the New World. As to Massa- 
chusetts, it was at first intended that the colony 
should be governed by a council in London, But 
in a little while the people had the whole power 
in their own hands, and chose annually the Gov- 



40 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

ernor, the counselors, and the representatives. 
The people of old England had never enjoyed 
anything like the liberties and privileges which 
the settlers of New England now possessed. And 

5 they did not adopt these modes of government 
after long study, but in simplicity, as if there 
were no other way for people to be ruled. 

"But, Laurence," continued Grandfather, 
''when you want instruction on these points you 

lomust seek it in Mr. Bancroft's History. I am 
merely telling the history of a chair. To proceed : 
the period during which the Governors sat in our 
chair was not very full of striking incidents. 
The province was now established on a secure 

15 foundation ; but it did not increase so rapidly 
as at first, because the Puritans were no longer 
driven from England by persecution. However, 
there was still a quiet and natural growth. 
The legislature incorporated towns, and made 

20 new purchases of lands from the Indians. A 
very memorable event took place in 1643. The 
colonies of Massachusetts, Plymouth, Connecti- 
cut, and New Haven formed a union for the pur- 
pose of assisting each other in difficulties, for 

25 mutual defense against their enemies. They 
called themselves the United Colonies of New 
EngLand." 

" Were they under a government like that of 
the United States ?" inquired Laurence. 

No," replied Grandfather ; " the different 



(( 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 41 

colonies did not compose one nation together ; it 
was merely a confederacy among the govern- 
ments. It somewhat resembled the league of the 
Amphictyons, which you remember in Grecian 
history. But to return to our chair. In 1644 it 5 
was highly honored ; for Governor Endicott sat 
in it when he gave audience to an ambassador 
from the French governor of Acadia, or Nova 
Scotia. A treaty of peace between Massachu- 
setts and the French colony was then signed." 10 

''Did England allow Massachusetts to make 
war and peace with foreign countries?" asked 
Laurence. 

" Massachusetts and the whole of New England 
was then almost independent of the mother 15 
country," said Grandfather. "There was now 
a civil war in England ; and the king, as you 
may well suppose, had his hands full at home, 
and could pay but little attention to these re- 
mote colonies. When the Parliament got the 20 
power into their hands, they likewise had enough 
to do in keeping down the Cavaliers. Thus New 
England, like a young and hardy lad whose 
father and mother neglect it, was left to take care 
of itself. In 1649 King Charles was beheaded. 25 
Oliver Cromwell then became Protector of En- 
gland ; and as he was a Puritan himself, and 
had risen by the valor of the English Puritans, 
he showed himself a loving and indulgent father 
to the Puritan colonies in America." 



42 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

Grandfather might have continued to talk in 
tliis dull manner nobody knows how long ; but 
suspecting that Charley would find the subject 
rather dry, he looked sidewise at that vivacious 
little fellow, and saw him give an involuntary 
yawn. Whereupon Grandfather proceeded with 
the history of the chair, and related a very en- 
tertaining incident, which will be found in the 
next chapter. 



CHAPTER VI 

lo "According to the most authentic records, 
my dear children," said Grandfather, " the chair, 
about this time, had the misfortune to break its 
leg. It was probably on account of this accident 
that it ceased to be the seat of the Governors 

15 of Massachusetts ; for, assuredl}^, it would have 
been ominous of evil to the commonwealth if the 
Chair of State had tottered upon three legs. 
Being therefore sold at auction, — alas ! wdjat 
a vicissitude for a chair that had figured in 

20 such high comj)any, — our venerable friend was 
knocked down to a certain Captain John Hull. 
This old gentleman, on carefully examining the 
maimed chair, discovered that its broken leg 
might be clamped with iron and made as service- 

25 able as ever." 

" Here is the very leg that was broken ! " ex- 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 43 

claimed Charley, throwing himself down on the 
lioor to look at it. *'And here are the iron 
clamps. How well it was mended ! " 

When they had all sufficiently examined the 
broken leg, Grandfather told them a story about 5 
Captain John Hull and 

THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS 

The Captain John Hull aforesaid was the mint- 
master of Massachusetts, and coined all the 
money that was made there. This was a new 
line of business; for, in the earlier days of the 10 
colony, the current coinage consisted of gold and 
silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain. 
These coins being scarce, the people were often 
forced to barter their commodities instead of 
selling them. 15 

For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, 
he perhaps exchanged a bear-skin for it. If he 
wislied for a barrel of molasses, he might pur- 
chase it with a pile of pine boards. Musket- 
bullets were used instead of farthings. The 20 
Indians had a sort of money, called wampum, 
which was made of clam-shells ; and this strange 
sort of specie was likewise taken in payment of 
debts by the English settlers. Bank-bills had 
never been heard of. There was not money 25 
enough of any kind, in many parts of the 
country, to pay the salaries of the ministers; 
so that they sometimes had to take quintals 



44 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

of fish, busliels of corn, or cords of wood, instead 
of silver or gold. 

As the people grew more numerous, and tlieir 
trade one with another increased, the want of 

5 current money was still more sensibly felt. To 
supply the demand, the general court passed a 
law for establishing a coinage of shillings, six- 
pences, and threepences. Captain John Hull 
was appointed to manufacture this money, and 

lowas to have about one shilling out of every 
twenty to pay him for the trouble of making 
them. 

Hereupon all the old silver in the colony 
was handed over to Captain John Hull. The 

15 battered silver cans and tankards, I suppose, 
and silver buckles, and broken spoons, and 
silver buttons of worn-out coats, and silver hilts 
of swords that had figured at court, — all such 
curious old articles were doubtless thrown into 

20 the melting-pot together. But by far the greater 
part of the silver consisted of bullion from the 
mines of South America, which the English buc- 
caneers — who were little better than pirates — 
had taken from the Spaniards and brought to 

23 Massachusetts. 

All this old and new silver being melted down 
and coined, the result was an immense amount 
of splendid shillings, sixpences, and three- 
pences. Each had the date, 1652, on the one 
side, and the figure of a pine-tree on the other. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 45 

Hence they were called pine-tree shillings. And 
for every twenty shillings tliat he coined, you 
will remember, Captain John Hull was entitled 
to put one shilling into his own pocket. 

The magistrates soon began to suspect that 5 
the mint-master would have the best of the bar- 
gain. They offered him a large sum of money 
if he would but give up that twentieth shilling 
which he was continually dropping into his 
own pocket. But Captain Hull declared him- 10 
self perfectly satisfied with the shilling. And 
well he might be ; for so diligently did he labor 
that in a few years his pockets, his money-bags, 
and his strong box were overflowing with pine- 
tree shillings. This was probably the case when 15 
he came into possession of Grandfather's chair ; 
and, as he had worked so hard at the mint, it 
was certainly proper that he should have a com- 
fortable chair to rest himself in. 

When the mint- master had grown very rich, 20 
a young man, Samuel Sewell by name, came 
a-courting to his only daughter. His daughter 
— whose name I do not know, but we will call 
her Betsey — was a fine, hearty damsel, by no 
means so slender as some young ladies of our 25 
own days. On the contrary, having always fed 
heartily on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian 
puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she was 
as round and pjlump as a pudding herself. 
With this round, rosy Miss Betsey did Samuel 



4^ GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

Sewell fall in love. As lie was a young man of 
good character, industrious in his business, and 
a member of the church, the mint-master very 
readily gave his consent. 
5 '^Yes, you may take her," said he in his 
rough way, " and you'll find her a heavy burden 
enough ! " 

On the wedding day, we may suppose that 
honest John Hull dressed himself in a plum- 
lo colored coat, all the buttons of which were made 
of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his waist- 
coat were sixpences ; and the knees of his small- 
clothes were buttoned with silver threepences. 
Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in Grand- 
15 father's chair; and, being a portly old gentle- 
man, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. 
On the opposite side of the room, between her 
bridesmaids, sat Miss Betsey. She was blushing 
with all her might, and looked like a full-blown 
20 peony, or a great red apple. 

^ There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a 
fine purple coat and gold lace waistcoat, with 
as much other finery as the Puritan laws and 
customs would allow him to put on. His hair 
25 was cropped close to his head, because Governor 
Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below 
the ears. But he was a very personable young 
man, and so thought the bridesmaids, and Miss 
Betsey herself. 
The mint-master also was pleased with lijs new 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 47 

son-in-law, especially as he had courted Miss 
Betsey out of pure love, and had said nothing at 
all about her portion. So, when the marriage 
ceremony was over. Captain Hull whispered a 
word to two of his men-servants, who immedi- 5 
ately went out, and soon returned, lugging a 
large pair of scales. They were such a pair as 
wholesale merchants use for weighing bulky 
commodities ; and quite a bulky commodity was" 
now to be weighed in them. lo 

"Daughter Betsey," said the mint-master, 
" get into one side of these scales." 

Miss Betsey — or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now 
call her — did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, 
without any question of the why and wherefore. 15 
But what her father could mean, unless to make 
her husband pay for her by the pound (in which 
case she would have been a dear bargain), she 
had not the least idea. 

"And now," said honest John Hull to the 20 
servants, " bring that box hither." 

The box to which the mint-master x)ointed was 
a huge, square, iron-bound, oaken chest ; it was 
big enough, my children, for all four of you to 
play at hide-and-seek in. The servants tugged 25 
with might and main, but could not lift this 
enormous receptacle, and were finally obliged to 
drag it across the floor. Captain Hull then took 
a key from his girdle, unlocked the chest, and 
lifted il^s ponderous lid. Behold ! it was full to 



48 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

the brim of bright pine-tree shillings, fresh from 
the mint ; and Samuel Sewell began to think 
that his father-in-law had got possession of all 
the money in the Massachusetts treasury. But 

5 it was only the mint-master's honest share of the 
coinage. 

Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
lieai)ed double handfuls of shillings into one 
side of the scales, while Betsey remained in the 

lo other. Jingle, jingle, went the shillings, as 
handful after handful was thrown in, till, i)lnmp 
and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed 
the young lady from the floor. 

"There, son Sewell!" cried the honest mint- 

15 master, resuming his seat in Grandfather's chair, 
"take these shillings for my daughter's portion. 
Use her kindly, and thank Heaven for her. It 
is not every wife that's worth her weight in 
silver! " 



20 The children laughed heartily at this legend, 
and would hardly be convinced but that Grand- 
father had made it out of his own head. He 
assured them faithfully, however, that he had 
found it in the pages of a grave historian, and 

25 had merely tried to tell it in a somewhat funnier 
style. As for Samuel Sewell, he afterward be- 
came Chief Justice of Massachusetts. 

"Well, Grandfather," remarked Clara, "if 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 49 

wedding portions nowadays were paid as Miss 
Betsey's was, young ladies would not ^yi^q 
themselves upon an airy ligure, as many of 
them do." 



CHAPTER VII 

When his little audience next assembled round 5 
the chair, Grandfather gave them a doleful his- 
tory of the Quaker persecution, which began 
in 1656, and raged for about three years in 
Massachusetts. 

He told them how, in the first place, twelve of 10 
the converts of George Fox, the lirst Quaker in 
the world, had come over from England. They 
seemed to be impelled by an earnest love for the 
souls of men, and a x>ure desire to make known 
what they considered a revelation from Heaven. 15 
But the rulers looked upon them as plotting the 
downfall of all government and religion. They 
were banished from the colony. In a little while, 
however, not only tlie first twelve had returned, 
but a multitude of other Quakers had come 20 
to rebuke the rulers and to preach against the 
priests and steeple-houses. 

Grandfather described the hatred and scorn 
with which these enthusiasts were received. 
They were thrown into dungeons ; they were 



50 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

beaten with many strix)es, women as well as men ; 
they Avere diiven forth into the wilderness, and 
left to the tender mercies of wild beasts and 
Indians. The children were amazed to hear that 

5 the more the Qnakers were sconrged, and im- 
prisoned, and banished, the more did the sect 
increase, both by the inHax of strangers and by 
converts from among the Puritans. But Grand- 
father told them that God had put something 

lointo the soul of man which always turned the 
cruelties of the persecutor to nought. 

He went on to relate that, in 1659, two Quakers, 
named William Robinson and Marmaduke 
Stephenson, were hanged at Boston. A woman 

15 had been sentenced to die with them, but was re- 
prieved on condition of her leaving the colonj^ 
Her name was Mary Dyer. In the year 1660 she 
returned to Boston, although she knew death 
awaited her there ; and, if Grandfather had been 

20 correctly informed, an incident had then taken 
place which connects her with our story. This 
Mary Dyer had entered the mint-master's dwell- 
ing, clothed in sackcloth and ashes, and seated 
herself in our great chair with a sort of dignity 

25 and state. Then she proceeded to deliver what 
she called a message from Heaven, but in the 
midst of it they dragged her to prison. 

" And was she executed % " asked Laurence. 
" She was," said Grandfather. 
Grandfather," cried Charley, clinching his 



u 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 5^ 

fist, ''I would have fought for that poor Quaker 
, worn an ! " 

"Ah ! but if a sword had been drawn for her," 
said Laurence, "it would have taken away all 
the beauty of her death." 5 

It seemed as if hardly any of the preceding 
stories had tbrow^n such an interest around 
Grandfather's chair as did the fact that the i^oor, 
persecuted, wandering Quaker woman had rested 
in it for a moment. The children were so much lo 
excited that Grandfather found it necessary to 
bring his account of the persecution to a close. 

" In 1660, the same year in which Mary Dyer 
was executed," said he, " Cliarles the Second 
was restored to the throne of his fathers. This 15 
king had many vices ; but he would not permit 
blood to be shed, under pretense of religion, in 
any part of his dominions. The Quakers in Eng- 
gland told him wliat had been done to their 
brethren in Massachusetts ; and he sent orders to 20 
Governor Endicott to forbear all such proceedings 
in future. And so ended the Quaker x^ersecu- 
tion, — one of the most mournful passages in the 
history of our forefathers." 

Grandfather then told his auditors that, 25 
shortly after the above incident, the great chair 
had been given by the mint-master to the Rev. 
Mr. John Eliot. He was the first minister of 
Roxburj^. But besides attending to the pastoral 
duties there, he learned the language of the red 



52 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

men, and often went into the woods to preacli to 
them. So earnestly did he labor for their conver- 
sion that he has always been called the Apostle 
to the Indians. The mention of this holy man 

5 suggested to Grandfather the propriety of giving 

a brief sketch of the history of the Indians, so 

far as they were connected with the English 

colonists. 

A short period before the arrival of the first 

lo Pilgrims at Plymouth there had been a very 
grievous plague among the red men ; and the 
sages and ministers of that day were inclined to 
the opinion that Providence had sent this mor- 
tality in order to make room for the settlement 

15 of the English. But I know not why we should 
suppose that an Indian's life is less precious, in 
the eye of Heaven, than that of a white man. Be 
that as it may, death had certainly been very 
busy with the savage tribes. 

20 In many places the English found the wigwams 
deserted and the cornfields going to waste, with 
none to harvest the grain. There were heaps 
of earth also, which, being dug open, proved to 
be Indian graves, containing bows and fiint-headed 

25 spears and arrows ; for the Indians buried the 
dead warrior's weapons along with him. In some 
spots there were skulls and other human bones 
lying unburied. In 1633, and the year after- 
ward, the smallpox broke out among the Massa- 
chusetts Indians, multitudes of whom died by 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 53 

this terrible disease of the Old World. These 
misfortunes made tliem far less powerful than 
they had formerly been. 

For nearly half a century after the arrival of 
the English the red men showed themselves 5 
generally inclined to peace and amity. They 
often made submission when fchey might have 
made successful war. The Plymouth settlers, 
led by the famous Captain Miles Standish, slew 
some of them, in 1623, without any very evident 10 
necessity for so doing. In 1636, and the follow- 
ing year, there was the most dreadful war that 
had yet occurred between the Indians and the 
English, The Connecticut settlers, assisted by a 
celebrated Indian chief named Uncas, bore the 15 
brunt of this war, with but little aid from Massa- 
chusetts. Many hundreds of the hostile Indians 
were slain or burned in their wigwams. Sassa- 
cus, their sachem, fled to another tribe, after his 
own people were defeated ; but he was murdered 20 
by them, and his head was sent to his English 
enemies. 

From that period down to the time of King 
Philip's war, which will be mentioned hereafter, 
there was not much trouble with the Indians. 25 
But the colonists were always on their guard, 
and kept their weapons ready for the conflict. 

"I have sometimes doubted," said Grand- 
father, when he had told these things to the 
children, '' I have sometimes doubted whether 



54 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

there was more than a single man among onr 
forefathers, who realized that an Indian pos- 
sesses a mind, and a heart, and an immortal sonl. 
That single man was John Eliot. All the rest of 

5 the early settlers seemed to think that the 
Indians were an inferior race of beings, whom 
the Creator had merely allowed to keep posses- 
sion of this beautiful country till the white men 
should be in want of it." 

lo " Did the pious men of those days never try to 
make Christians of them % " asked Laurence. 

"Sometimes, it is true," answered Grand- 
father, "the magistrates and ministers would 
talk about civilizing and converting the red 

15 people. But, at the bottom of their hearts, they 
would have had almost as much expectation of 
civilizing the wild bear of the woods and making 
him fit for paradise. They felt no faith in the 
success of any such attempts, because they had 

20 no love for the poor Indians. Now, Eliot was 
full of love for them ; and therefore so full of 
faith and hope that he spent the labor of a life- 
time in their behalf." 

" I would have conquered them first, and then 

25 converted them," said Charley. 

"Ah, Charley ! there spoke the very spirit of 
our forefathers ! " replied Grandfather. "But 
Mr. Eliot had a better spirit. He looked upon 
them as his brethren. He persuaded as many 
of them as he could to leave off their idle and 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 55 

wandering habits, and to build houses and culti- 
vate the earth, as the English did. He estab- 
lished schools among them and taught many of 
the Indians how to read. He taught them, like- 
Avise, how to pray. Hence they were called 5 
'praying Indians.' Finally, having spent the 
best years of his life for their good, Mr. Eliot 
resolved to spend the remainder in doing them a 
yet greater benefit," 

" I know what that was ! " cried Laurence. 10 
''He sat down in his study," continued Grand- 
father, " and began a translation of the Bible into 
the Indian tongue. It was while he was engaged 
in this pious work that the mint-master gave 
him our great chair. His toil needed it and 15 
deserved it." 

" Oh, Grandfather, tell ns all about that Indian 
Bible!" exclaimed Laurence. " I have seen it 
in the library of the Atheut^um ; and the tears 
came into ray eyes to think that there were no 20 
Indians left to read it." 



CHAPTER YIII 

As Grandfather was a great admirer of the 
Apostle Eliot, he was glad to comply with the 
earnest request which Laurence had made at 
the close of the last chaxoter. So he proceeded 



56 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

to describe how good Mr. Eliot labored while he 
was at work upon 

THE INDIAN BIBLE 

My dear children, what a task would you 
think it, even with a long lifetime before yon, 

5 were you bidden to copy every chapter, and 
verse, and word in yonder family Bible ! Would 
not this be a heavy toil ? But if the task were, 
not to write off the English Bible, but to learn 
a language utterly unlike all other tongues— a 

lo language which hitherto had never been learned, 
except by the Indians themselves, from their 
mothers' lips — a language never written, and tlie 
strange words of which seemed inexpressible by 
letters ; — if the task were, first to learn this new 

15 variety of speech, and then to translate the 
Bible into it, and to do it so carefully that not 
one idea throughout the holy book should be 
changed — what would induce you to undertake 
this toil \ Yet this was what the Apostle Eliot 

20 did. 

It was a mighty work for a man, now growing 
old, to take upon himself. And what earthly 
reward could he expect from it ? None ; no 
reward on earth. But he believed that the red 

25 men were tlie descendants of those lost tribes of 
Israel of whom history has been able to tell us 
nothing for thousands of years. He hoped that 
God had sent the English across the ocean. Gen- 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 57 

tiles as they were, to enlighten this benighted 
portion of his once chosen race. And when he 
should be summoned hence, he trusted to meet 
blessed spirits in another world, whose bliss 
would have been earned by his patient toil in 5 
translating the Word of God. This hope and 
trust were far dearer to him than anything that 
earth could offer. 

Sometimes, while thus at work, he was visited 
by learned men, who desired to know what 10 
literary undertaking Mr. Eliot had in hand. 
They, like himself, had been bred in the studious 
cloisters of a university, and were supposed to 
possess all the erudition which mankind has 
hoarded up from age to age. Greek and Latin 15 
were as familiar to them as the babble of their 
childhood. Hebrew was like their mother 
tongue. They had grown gray in study ; their 
eyes were bleared with pouring over print and 
manuscript by the light of the midnight lamj). 20 

And yet, how much had they left unlearned ! 
Mr. Eliot would put into their hands some of the 
pages which he had been writing ; and behold ! 
the gray-headed men stammered over the long, 
strange words, like a little child in his first 25 
attempts to read. Then would the apostle call 
to him an Indian boy, one of his scholars, and 
show him the manuscript which had so puzzled 
the learned Englishmen. 

''Read this, my child," said he; "these are 



58 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

some brethren of mine, who would fain hear the 
sound of thy native tongue." 

Then would the Indian boy cast his eyes over 
the mysterious page, and read it so skillfully 

5 that it sounded like wild music. It seemed as if 
the forest leaves were singing in the ears of his 
auditors, and as if the roar of distant streams 
were poured through the young Indian's voice. 
Such were the sounds amid which the language 

10 of the red men liad been formed ; and they were 
still heard to echo in it. 

The lesson being over, Mr. Eliot would give the 
Indian boy an apple or a cake, and bid him leap 
forth into the open air which his free nature 

15 loved. Tlie apostle was kind to children, and 

even shared in their sports sometimes. And 

when his visitors had bidden him farewell, the 

good man turned patiently to his toil again. 

No other Englishman had ever understood the 

2o Indian character so well, nor i:)ossessed so great 
an influence over the New England tribes, as the 
apostle did. His advice and assistance must 
often have been valuable to his countrymen, in 
their transactions with the Indians. Occasion- 

25 ally, perhaps, the Governor and some of the 
counselors came to visit Mr. Eliot. Perchance 
they were seeking some method to circumvent 
the forest people. They inquired, it may be, 
how they could obtain i^ossession of such and 
such a tract of their rich land. Or they talked 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 59 

of making the Indians their servants, as if God 
had destined them for perpetual bondage to the 
more powerful white man. 

Perhaps, too, some warlike captain, dressed in 
his buff-coat, witli a corselet beneath it, acconi- 5 
panied the Governor and counselors. Laying 
his hand upon his sword-hilt, he would declare 
that the only method of dealing with the red men 
was to meet them with the sword drawn and 
the musket x>i'esented. 10 

But the apostle resisted both the craft of the 
politician and the fierceness of the warrioj*. 

"Treat these sons of the forest as men and 
brethren," he would say, '^and let us endeavor 
to make them Christians. Their forefathers were 15 
of that chosen race whom God delivered from 
Egyptian bondage. Perchance he has destined 
us to deliver the children from the more cruel 
bondage of ignorance and idolatry. Chiefly for 
this end, it maj^ be, we were directed across the 20 
ocean." 

When these other visitors were gone, Mr. Eliot 
bent himself again over the half- written page. 
He dared hardly relax a moment from his toil. 
He felt that, in the book which he was translating, 25 
there was a deep human as well as heavenly 
wisdom, which would of itself suffice to civilize 
and refine the savage tribes. Let the Bible be 
diffused among them, and all earthly good^vould 
follow. But how slight a consideration w\as this. 



6o GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

when he reflected that the eternal welfare of a 
whole race of men depended upon his accom- 
X)lishinent of the task which he had set himself ! 
What if his hand should be palsied ? What if 

5 his mind should lose its vigor ? What if death 

should come upon him ere the work were done ? 

Then must the red man wander in the dark 

wilderness of heathenism forever. 

Impelled by such thoughts as these, he sat 

10 writing in the great chair when the pleasant sum- 
mer breeze came in through his open casement ; 
and also when the fire of forest logs sent np its 
blaze and smoke, through the broad stone chim- 
ney, into the wintry air. Before the earliest 

15 bird sang in the morning the apostle's lamp was 
kindled; and, at midnight, his weary head was 
not yet upon its pillow. And at length, leaning 
back in the great chair, he conld say to himself, 
with a holy triumph : " The work is finished ! " 

20 It was finished. Here was a Bible for the In- 
dians. Those long-lost descendants of the ten 
tribes of Israel would now learn the history of 
their forefathers. That grace which the ancient 
Israelites had forfeited was offered anew to their 

25 children. 

There is no impiety in believing that, when his 
long life was over, the apostle of the Indians was 
welcomed to the celestial abodes of the j^rophets 
of ancient days, and by those earliest apostles 
and evangelists who had drawn their inspiration 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 6r 

from the immediate presence of the Saviour. 
They first liad preached truth and salvation to 
the world. And Eliot, separated from them by 
many centuries, yet full of the same spirit, had 
borne the like message to the New World of the 
West. Since the first days of Christianity, there 
has been no man more worthy to be numbered in 
the brotherhood of the apostles than Eliot. 



" My heart is not satisfied to think," observed 
Laurence, " that Mr. Eliot's labors have done no lo 
good except to a few Indians of his own time. 
Doubtless he would not have regretted his toil, if 
it were the means of saving but a single soul. 
But it is a grievous thing to me that he should 
have toiled so hard to translate the Bible, and now 15 
the language and the people are gone ! The In- 
dian Bible itself is almost the only relic of both." 

"Laurence," said his Grandfather, "if ever 
you should doubt that man is capable of disinter- 
ested zeal for his brother's good, then remember 20 
how the apostle Eliot toiled. And if you should 
feel your own self-interest pressing upon your 
heart too closely, then think of Eliot's Indian 
Bible. It is good for the world that such a man 
has lived and left this emblem of his life." 25 

The tears gushed into the eyes of Laurence, 
and he acknowledged that Eliot had not toiled 
in vain. Little Alice put up her arms to Grand- 



62 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

father, and drew down his wliite head beside her 
own golden locks. 

"Grandfather," whispered she, "I want to 
kiss good Mr. Eliot ! " 

5 And, doubtless, good Mr. Eliot wonld gladly re- 
ceive the kiss of so sweet a child as little Alice, and 
would think it a portion of his reward in heaven. 
Grandfather now observed that Dr. Frnncis 
had written a very beautiful Life of Eliot which 

lo he advised Laurence to peruse. He then spoke 
of King Philip's War, which began in 1675, and 
terminated with the death of King Philip, in the 
following year. Philip was a proud, fierce 
Indian, whom Mr. Eliot had vainly endeavored 

15 to convert to the Christian faith. 

''It must have been a great anguish to the 
apostle," continued Grandfather, "to liear of 
mutual slaughter and outrage between his own 
countrymen and those for whom he felt the afl'ec- 

2otion of a father. A few of the praying ludians 
joined the followers of King Philip, A greater 
number fought on the side of the English. In 
the course of the war the little community of 
red people whom Mr. Eliot had begun to civilize 

25 was scattered, and probably never was restored 
to a flourishing condition. But his zeal did not 
grow cold ; and only about five years before his 
death he took great pains in preparing a new 
edition of the Indian Bible." 

"I do wish. Grandfather," cried Charle}^, 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 63 

*' you would tell us all about the battles in King 
Philip's War." 

" Oh, no ! " exclaimed Clara. " Who wants to 
hear about tomahawks and scalping-knives ? " 

"No, Charley," replied Grandfather, " I have 5 
no time to spare in talking about battles. You 
must be content with knowing that it was the 
bloodiest war that the Indians had ever waged 
against the white men ; and that, at its close, the 
English set King Philip's head upon a pole." 10 

"Who was the captain of the English?" 
asked Charley. 

"Their most noted captain was Benjamin 
Church,— a very famous warrior," said Grand- 
father. "But I assure you, Charley, that 15 
neither Captain Church, nor any of the officers 
and soldiers who fought in King Philip's War, 
did anything a thousandth part so glorious as 
Mr. Eliot did when he translated the Bible for 
the Indians." 20 

"Let Laurence be the apostle," said Charley 
to himself, "and I will be the captain." 



CHAPTER IX 

The children were now accustomed to as- 
semble round Grandfather's chair at all their 
unoccupied moments; and often it was a strik-25 
ing picture to behold the whited-headed old sire, 



64 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

with this flowery wreath of young i^eoj^le around 
him. When he talked to them, it was the 23ast 
speaking to the present, or ratlier to the future,— 
for the chiklren were of a generation which had 

5 not become actuaL Their part in life, thus far, 

was only to be happy and to draw knowledge 

from a thousand sources. As yet, it was not 

their time to do. 

Sometimes, as Grandfather gazed at their 

lofair, unworldly countenances a mist of tears 
bedimmed his spectacles. He almost regretted 
that it was necessary for them to know anything 
of the past or to provide aught for the future. 
He could have wished that they might be always 

15 the happy, youthful creatures who had hitherto 
sported around his chair, without inquiring 
whether it had a history. It grieved him to 
think that his little Alice, who was a flower-bud 
fresh from paradise, must open her leaves to the 

20 rough breezes of the world, or ever ojDen them 
in any clime. So sweet a child she was, that it 
seemed flt her infancy should be immortal ! 

But such repinings were merely flitting 
shadows across the old man's heart. He had 

25 faith enough to believe, and wisdom enough to 
know, that the bloom of the flower would be 
even holier and happier^ than its bud. Even 
within himself — though Grandfather was now 
at that period of life when the veil of mortality 
is apt to hang heavily over the soul— still, in 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 65 

his inmost being he was conscious of something 
that he would not have exchanged for the best 
happiness of chiklhood. It was a bliss to which 
every sort of earthly experience — all that he had 
enjoyed, or suffered, or seen, or heard, or acted, 5 
with the broodings of his soul upon the whole — 
had contributed somewhat. In the same manner 
must a bliss, of which now they could have no 
conception, grow up within these children, and 
form a part of their sustenance for immortality. 10 

So Grandfather, with renewed cheerfulness, 
continued his history of the chair, trusting that 
a pro founder wisdom than his own would ex- 
tract, from these flowers and weeds of Time, a 
fragrance that might last beyond all time. 15 

At this period of the story Grandfather threw 
a glance backward as far as the year 1660. He 
spoke of the ill-concealed reluctance with which 
the Puritans in America had acknowledged the 
sway of Charles the Second on his restoration 20 
to his father's throne. When death had stricken 
Oliver Cromwell, that mighty Protector had no 
sincerer mourners than in New Enghmd. The 
new king had been more than a year upon 
the tlirone before his accession was proclaimed 25 
in Boston ; although the neglect to perform the 
ceremony might have subjected the rulers to the 
charge of treason. 

During the reign of Charles the Second, 
however, the American colonies had but little 



66 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

reason to complain of liarsli or tyrannical treat- 
ment. But when Charles died, in 1685, and was 
succeeded by his brother James, the patriarchs 
of New England began to tremble. King James 

5 was a bigoted Roman Catholic, and was known 
to be of an arbitrary temper. It was feared by 
all Protestants, and chiefly by the Puritans, that 
he would assume despotic power and attemj^t 
to establish Popery throughout his dominions. 

loOur forefathers felt that they had no security 
either for their religion or their liberties. 

The result proved that they had reason for 
their apprehensions. King James caused the 
charters of all the American colonies to be taken 

15 away. The old charter of Massachusetts, which 
the peox^le regarded as a holy thing and as the 
foundation of all their liberties, was declared 
void. The colonists were now no longer freemen ; 
they were entirely dependent on the king's pleas- 

2oure. At first, in 1685, King James appointed 
Joseph Dudley, a native of Massachusetts, to be 
president of New England. But soon afterward 
Sir Edmund Andros, an officer of the English 
army, arrived, with a commission to be Governor- 

25 general of New England and New York. 

The king had given such x)owers to Sir Edmund 
Andros that there was now no liberty, nor scarcely 
any law, in the colonies over which he ruled. The 
inhabitants were not allowed to choose represent- 
atives, and consequently had no voice whatever 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 6 J 

in the government, nor control over tlie measnres 
that were acloj)ted. The counselors with whom 
the Governor consulted on matters of state were 
ai^pointed by himself. This sort of government 
was no better than an absolute despotism. 5 

"The people suffered much wrong while Sir 
Edmund Andros ruled over them," continued 
Grandfather; "and they were apprehensive of 
much more. He had brought some soldiers with 
him from England, who took possession of the lo 
old fortress on Castle Island and of the fortifica- 
tion on Fort Hill. Sometimes it was rumored 
that a general massacre of the inhabitants was to 
be perpetrated by these soldiers. There were 
reports, too, that all the ministers were to be 15 
slain or imprisoned." 

" For what ?" inquired Charley. 

" Because they were the leaders of the people, 
Charley," said Grandfather. " A minister was a 
more formidable man than a general in those 20 
days. Well ; while these things were going on 
in America, King James had so misgoverned 
the people of England that they sent over to 
Holland for the Prince of Orange. He had 
married the king's daughter, and was therefore 25 
considered to have a claim to the crown. On his 
arrival in England, the Prince of Orange was^ 
proclaimed king, by the name of William the 
Third. Poor old King James made his escape to 
France." 



68 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

Grandfather told how, at the first intelligence 
of the landing of the Prince of Orange in Eng- 
land, the people of Massachusetts rose in their 
strength and overthrew the government of Sir 

5 Edmund Andros. He, with Joseph Dudley, 
Edmund Randolph, and his other principal 
adherents, was thrown into prison. Old Simon 
Bradstreet, who had been Governor when King 
James took away the charter, was called by the 

10 people to govern them again. 

" Governor Bradstreet was a venerable old man, 
nearly ninety years of age," said Grandfather. 
"He came over with the first settlers, and had 
been the intimate companion of all those excel- 

15 lent and famous men who laid the founda- 
tion of our country. They were all gone before 
him to the grave ; and Bradstreet was the last 
of the Puritans." 
Grandfather paused a moment and smiled, as 

2oif he had something very interesting to tell his 
auditors. He then proceeded : 

" And now, Laurence, — now Clara, — now, 
Charley, — now, my dear little Alice,— what chair 
do you think had been placed in the council 

25 chamber for old Governor Bradstreet to take his 
seat in % Would you believe that it was this 
very chair in which Grandfather now sits, and 
of which he is telling you the history ? " 

"I am glad to hear it, with all my heart!" 
cried Charley, after a shout of delight. "I 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 69 

thought Grandfather had quite forgotten the 
chair." 

"It was a solemn and affecting sight," said 
Grandfather, "when this venerable patriarch, 
with his white beard flowing down upon his 5 
breast, took his seat in his Chair of State. 
Within his remembrance, and even since his 
mature age, the site where now stood the pox)u- 
lous town had been a wild and forest-covered 
peninsula. The province, now so fertile and 10 
spotted with thriving villages, had been a desert 
wilderness. He was surrounded by a shouting 
multitude, most of whom had been born in the 
country which he had helped to found. They 
were of one generation, and he of another. As 15 
the old man looked upon them, and beheld new 
faces everywhere, he must have felt that it was 
now time for him to go whither his brethren had 
gone before him." 

"Were the former Governors all dead and 20 
gone ? " asked Laurence. 

" All of them," replied Grandfather. " Win- 
throp had been dead forty years. Endicott died, 
a very old man, in 1665. Sir Henry Vane was 
beheaded, in London, at the beginning of the 25 
reign of Charles the Second. And Haynes, Dud- 
ley, Bellingliam, and Leverett, who had all been 
Governors of Massachusetts, were now likewise 
in their graves. Old Simon Bradstreet was the 
sole representative of that departed brother- 



70 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

hood. There was no other public man remain- 
ing to connect the ancient system of government 
and manners with the new system wliich was 
about to take its jjkice. The era of the Puritans 

5 was now completed." 

"I am sorry for it," observed Laurence ; " for, 
though they were so stern, yet it seems to me 
that there was something warm and real about 
them. I think, Grandfather, that each of these 

10 old Governors should have his statue set up in 
our State House, sculptured out of the hardest 
of New England granite." 

"It would not be amiss, Laurence," said 
Grandfather ; " but perhaiDs clay, or some other 

15 perishable material, might suffice for some of 
their successors. But let us go back to our 
chair. It was occupied by Governor Brads treet 
from April, 1689, until May, 1692. Sir William 
Phips then arrived in Boston, with a new char- 

2oter from King William and a commission to be 
Governor." 



CHAPTER X 

"And what became of the chair?" inquired 
Clara. 

"The outward aspect of our chair," replied 

25 Grandfather, " was now somewhat the worse for 

its long and arduous services. It was considered 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR n 

hardly magnificent enough to be allowed to keep 
its i)lace in the council chamber of Massachu- 
setts. In fact, it was banished as an article of 
useless lumber. But Sir William Phips hap- 
pened to see it, and, being much pleased with its 5 
construction, resolved to take the good old chair 
into his private mansion. Accordingly, with his 
own gubernatorial hands, he repaired one of its 
arms, which had been slightly damaged." 

"Why, Grandfather, here is the very arm !" 10 
interrupted Charley, in great Avonderment. 
"And did Sir William Phips put in these screws 
with his own hands 1 I am sure he did it beau- 
tifully ! But how came a Governor to know how 
to mend a chair ? " 15 

"I will tell you a story about the early life of 
Sir William Phips," said Grandfather. "You 
will then perceive that he well knew how to use 
his hands." 

So Grandfather related the wonderful and true 20 
tale of 

THE SUNKEN TREASURE 

Picture to yourselves, my dear children, a 
handsome, old-fashioned room, with a large, open 
cupboard at one end, in which is displayed a 
magnificent gold cup, with some other splendid 25 
articles of gold and silver plate. In another part 
of the room, opposite to a tall looking-glass, 
stands our beloved chair, newly polished, and 



72 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

adorned with a gorgeous cushion of crimson 
velvet, tufted with gold. 

In the chair sits a man of strong and sturdy 
frame, whose face has been roughened by nortli- 

5 ern tempests and blackened by the burning sun 
of the West Indies. He wears an immense peri- 
wig, flowing down over his shoulders. His coat 
has a wide embroidery of golden foliage ; and 
his waistcoat, likewise, is all flowered over and 

lo bedizened with gold. His red, rough hands, 
which have done many a good day's work with 
tlie hammer and adze, are half covered by the 
delicate lace ruffles at his wrists. On a table lies 
his silver-hilted sword ; and in the corner of the 

15 room stands his gold-headed cane, made of a 
beautifully polished West India wood. 

Somewhat such an aspect as this did Sir Wil- 
liam Phips present when he sat in Grandfather's 
chair after the king had appointed him Governor 

20 of Massachusetts. Truly, there was need that 
the old chair should be varnished and decorated 
with a crimson cushion in order to make it suit- 
able for such a magnificent looking personage. 
But Sir William Phips had not always worn a 

25 gold-embroidered coat, nor always sat so much 
at his ease as he did in Grandfather's chair. He 
was a poor man's son, and was born in the 
province of Maine, where he used to tend sheep 
upon the hills in his boyhood and youth. Until 
he had grown to be a man, he did not even know 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 73 

how to read and write. Tired of tending sheep, 
he next apprenticed himself to a ship- carpenter, 
and spent about four years in hewing the crooked 
limbs of oak trees into knees for vessels. 

In 1673, when he was twenty-two years old, he 5 
came to Boston, and soon afterward was married 
to a widow lady, who had property enough to 
set him up in business. It was not long, how- 
ever, before he lost all the money that he had 
acquired by his marriage, and became a poor 10 
man again. Still, he was not discouraged. He 
often told his wife that, some time or other, he 
should be very rich, and would build a ''fair 
brick house " in the Green Lane of Boston. 

Do not suppose, children, that he had been to 15 
a fortune-teller to inquire his destiny. It was 
his own energy and spirit of enterprise, and his 
resolution to lead an industrious life, that made 
him look forward with so much confidence to 
better days. 20 

Several years passed away, and William Phips 
had not yet gained the riches which he prom- 
ised to himself. During this time he had begun 
to follow the sea for a living. In the year 1684 
he happened to hear of a Spanish ship which 25 
had been cast away near the Bahama Islands, 
and which was supposed to contain a great deal 
of gold and silver. Phips went to the place in a 
small vessel, hoping that he should be able to 
recover some of the treasure from the wreck. 



74 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

He did notsucceed, however, in fishing up gold 
and silver enough to pay the expenses of his 
voyage. 

But, before he returned, he was told of another 
5 Sx)anisli ship, or galleon, which had been cast 
away near Porto de la Plata. She had now lain 
as much as fifty years beneath the waves. This 
old ship had been laden with immense wealth ; 
and, hitherto, nobody had thought of the possi- 

lobility of recovering any part of it from the deep 
sea which was rolling and tossing it about. But 
though it was now an old story, and the most 
aged people had almost forgotten that such a 
vessel had been wrecked, William Phips resolved 

15 that the sunken treasure should again be brought 
to light. 

He went to London and obtained admittance 
to King James, who had not yet been driven from 
his throne. He told the king of the vast wealth 

20 that was lying at the bottom of the sea. King 
James listened with attention, and thought this 
a fine opportunity to fill his treasury with Span- 
ish gold. He appointed William Phips to be 
captain of a vessel called the Rose Algier, car- 

25rying eighteen guns and ninety-five men. So 
now he was Captain Phips of the English Navy. 
Captain Phips sailed from England in the 
Rose Algler^ and cruised for nearly two years in 
the West Indies, endeavoring to find the wreck 
of the Spanish ship. But the sea is so wide and 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 75 

deep that it is no easy matter to discover the 
exact spot Avhere a sunken vessel lies. The pros- 
pect of success seemed very small ; and most 
people woukl have thought that Captain Phips 
was as far from having money enough to build 5 
a " fair brick house " as he was while he tended 
sheep. 

The seamen of the Rose Algier became dis- 
couraged, and gave up all hope of making their 
fortunes by discovering the Spanish wreck. 10 
They wanted to compel Captain Phips to turn 
pirate. There was a much better prospect, they 
thought, of growing rich by jDlundering vessels 
which still sailed in the sea than by seeking for a 
ship that had lain beneath the waves full half a 15 
century. They broke out in open mutiny, but 
were finally mastered by Phips, and compelled 
to obey his orders. It would have been danger- 
ous, however, to continue much longer at sea 
with such a crew of mutinous sailors ; and, be- 20 
sides, the Rose Algier was leaky and unsea- 
worthy. So Captain Phips judged it best to 
return to England. 

Before leaving the West Indies, he met with 
a Spaniard, an old man, wdio remembered the 25 
wreck of the Spanish ship, and gave him direc- 
tions how to find the very spot. It was on a reef 
of rocks, a few leagues from Porto de la Plata. 

On his arrival in England, therefore. Captain 
Phips solicited the king to let him have another 



76 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

vessel and send liini back again to the West 
Indies. But King James, who had probably 
expected that the Rose Algier would return \ 
laden with gold, refused to have anything more 

5 to do with the affair. Pliips might never have 
been able to renew the search if the Duke of 
Albemarle and some other noblemen had not lent \ 
their assistance. They fitted out a ship, and : 
gave the command to Captain Phips. He sailed ' 

lofrom England, and arrived safely at Porto de la | 
Plata, where he took an adze and assisted his | 
men to build a large boat. 

The boat was intended for the purpose of 
going closer to the reef of rocks than a large 

15 vessel could safely venture. When it Avas 
finished, the captain sent several men in it to 
examine the spot where the Spanish sliix) was 
said to have been wrecked. They were accom- 
panied by some Indians, who were skillful divers, 

20 and could go down a great way into the depths 
of the sea. 

The boat's crew proceeded to the reef of rocks, 
and rowed round and round it a great many 
times. They gazed down into the water, which 

25 was so transparent tliat it seemed as if the}^ 
could have seen the gold and silver at the 
bottom, had there been any of those precious 
metals there. Nothing, however, could they 
see ; nothing more valuable than a curious sea 
shrub, which was growing beneath the water, in 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 77 

a crevice of the reef of rocks. It flaunted to and 
fro with the swell and reflux of the waves, and 
looked as bright and beautiful as if its leaves 
Avere gold. 

" We won't go back empty-handed," cried an 5 
English sailor ; and then he spoke to one of the 
Indian divers. " Dive down and bring me 
that pretty sea shrub there. That's the only 
treasure we shall And!" 

Down plunged the diver, and soon rose drip- 10 
ping from the water, holding the sea shrub in 
his hand. Bat he had learnt some news at the 
bottom of the sea. 

"There are some ship's guns," said he, the 
moment he had drawn breath, "some great 15 
cannon, among the rocks, near where the shrub 
was growing." 

No sooner had he spoken than the English 
sailors knew that they had found the very spot 
where the Spanish galleon had been wrecked, 20 
so many years before. The other Indian divers 
immediately plunged over the boat's side and 
sw^ani headlong down, groping among the rocks 
and sunken cannon. In a few moments one of 
tliem rose above the water with a heavy lump of 25 
silver in his arms. That single lump was worth 
more than a thousand dollars. The sailors took 
it into the boat, and then rowed back as speedily 
as they could, being in haste to inform Captain 
Phips of their good luck. 



78 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

But, confidently as the captain had hoped to 
find the Spanish wreck, yet now that it was 
really found, the news seemed too good to be 
true. He could not believe it till the sailors 

5 showed him the lump of silver. 

"Thanks be to God!" then cries Captain 
Phips. "We shall every man of us make our 
fortunes ! " 
Hereupon the captain and all the crew set to 

lo work, with iron rakes and great hooks and lines, 
fishing for gold and silver at the bottom of the 
sea. Up came the treasure in abundance. Now 
they beheld a table of solid silver, once the 
property of an old Spanish grandee. Now they 

15 found a sacramental vessel, which had been 
destined as a gift to some Catholic church. 
Now they drew up a golden cup, fit for the king 
of Spain to drink his wine out of. Perhaps the 
bony hand of its former owner had been grasp- 

2oing the precious cuj), and was drawn uj) along 
with it. Now their rakes or fishing-lines were 
loaded with masses of silver bullion. There 
were also precious stones among the treasure, 
glittering and sparkling, so that it is a wonder 

25 how their radiance could have been concealed. 
There is something sad and terrible in the idea 
of snatching all this wealth from the devouring 
ocean, which had possessed it for such a length 
of years. It seems as if men had no right to 
make themselves rich with it. It ought to have 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 79 

been left with the skeletons of the ancient 
Spaniards, who had been drowned when the ship 
was wrecked, and whose bones were now scat- 
tered among the gold and silver. 

But Captain Phips and his crew were troubled 5 
with no such thoughts as these. After a day or 
two they lighted on another jDart of the wreck, 
where they found a great many bags of silver 
dollars. But nobody could have guessed that 
these were money-bags. By remaining so long 10 
in the salt-water, they had become covered over 
with a crust which had the appearance of stone, 
so that it was necessary to break them in pieces 
with hammers and axes. When this was done, 
a stream of silver dollars gushed out upon the 15 
deck of the vessel. 

The whole value of the recovered treasure, 
plate, bullion, precious stones, and all, was esti- 
mated at more than two millions of dollars. It 
was dangerous even to look at such a vast 20 
amount of wealth. A sea captain, who had 
assisted Phips in the enterprise, utterly lost his 
reason at the sight of it. He died two years 
afterward, still raving about the treasures that 
lie at the bottom of the sea. It would have been 25 
better for this man if he had left the skeletons 
of the shipwrecked Spaniards in quiet possession 
of their wealth. 

Captain Phips and his men continued to fish 
up plate, bullion, and dollars, as plentifully as 



So GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

ever, till their provisions grew short. Then, as 
they could not feed upon gold and silver any- 
more than old King Midas could, they found it 
necessary to go in search of better sustenance. 

5 Phips resolved to return to England. He arrived 
there in 1687, and was received with great joy by 
the Duke of Albemarle and other English lords 
who had fitted out the vessel. Well they might 
rejoice ; for they took by far the greater part of 

lothe treasure to themselves. 

The captain's share, however, was enough to 
make him comfortable for the rest of his days. 
It also enabled him to fulfill his promise to his 
wife, by building a "fair brick house" in the 

15 Green Lane of Boston. The Duke of Albemarle 
sent Mrs. Phips a magnificent gold cup, Avorth 
at least five thousand dollars. Before Captain 
Phips left London, King James made him a 
knight ; so that, instead of the obscure sliip- 

20 carpenter Avho had formerly dwelt among them, 
the inhabitants of Boston welcomed him on his 
return as the rich and famous Sir William 
Phips. 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 8 1 



CHAPTER XI 

•'Sir William Phips," continued Grand- 
father, " was too active and adventurous a man 
to sit still in the quiet enjoyment of his good 
fortune. In the year 1690 he went on a military 
expedition against the French colonies in 5 
America, conquered the whole j)rovince of 
Acadia, and returned to Boston with a great deal 
of plunder." 

" Why, Grandfather, he was the greatest man 
that ever sat in the chair ! " cried Charley. 10 

''Ask Laurence what he thinks," replied 
Grandfather, with a smile. "Well; in the 
same year. Sir William took command of an 
expedition against Quebec, but did not succeed 
in capturing the city. In 1692, being then in 15 
London, King William the Third appointed him 
Governor of Massachusetts. And now, my dear 
children, having followed Sir William Phips 
through all his adventures and hardships till we 
find him comfortably seated in Grandfather's 20 
chair, we will here bid him farew^ell. May he be 
as happy in ruling a people as he was while he 
tended sheep ! " 

Charley, whose fancy had been greatly taken 
by the adventurous disposition of Sir William 25 
Phips, was eager to know how he had acted and 
what happened to him while he held the office 



82 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

of Governor. But Grandfather had made up his 
mind to tell no more stories for the present. 

"Possibly, one of these days, I may go on 
with the adventures of the chair," said he. 

5 "But its history becomes very obscure just 
at this point ; and I must search into some 
old books and manuscripts before proceeding 
further. Besides, it is now a good time to pause- 
in our narrative ; because the new charter, which 

10 Sir William Phips brought over from England, 
formed a very important epoch in the history of 
the province." 

"Really, Grandfather," observed Laurence, 
''this seems to be the most remarkable chair in 

15 the world. Its history cannot be told without 
intertwining it with the lives of distinguished 
men and the great events that have befallen the 
country." 

"True, Laurence," replied Grandfather, smil- 

2oing. "We must write a book with some such 
title as this, — Memoirs of my owi^ Times, by 
Grandfather's Chair." 

"That would be beautiful ! " exclaimed Lau- 
rence, clapping his hands. 

25 "But, after all," continued Grandfather, "any 
other old chair, if it possessed memory and a 
hand to write its recollections, could record 
stranger stories than any that I have told you. 
From generation to generation, a chair sits famil- 
iarly in the midst of human interests, and is 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 83 

witness to the most secret and confidential inter- 
course that mortal man can hold with his fellow. 
The human heart may best be read in the fireside 
chair. And as to external events, Grief and Joy 
keep a continual vicissitude around it and within 5 
it. Now we see the glad face and glowing form 
of Joy, sitting merrily in the old chair, and 
throwing a warm fire-light radiance over all the 
household. Now, while we thought not of it, 
the dark-clad mourner. Grief, has stolen into the 10 
place of Joy, but not to retain it long. The im- 
agination can hardly grasp so wide a subject as 
is embraced in the experience of a family chair." 

"It makes my breath flutter, my heart thrill, 
to think of it," said Laurence. " Yes ; a family 15 
chair must have a deeper history than a Chair of 
State." 

" Oh, yes ! " cried Clara, expressing a woman's 
feeling on the point in question; " the history 
of a country is not nearly so interesting as that 20 
of a single family would be." 

"But the history of a country is more easily 
told," said Grandfather. " So, if we proceed 
with our narrative of the chair, I shall still con- 
fine myself to its connection with public events." 25 

Good old Grandfather now rose and quitted 
the room, while the children remained gazing at 
the chair. Laurence, so vivid was his conception 
of past times, would hardly have deemed it 
strange if its former occupants, one after another, 



§4 GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 

had resumed the seat which they had each left 
vacant such a dim length of years ago. 

First, the gentle and lovely Lady Arbella would 
have been seen in the old chair, almost sinking 

5 out of its arms for very weakness ; then Roger 
Williams, in his cloak and band, earnest, ener- 
getic, and benevolent ; then the figure of Anne 
Hutchinson, with the like gesture as when she 
presided at the assemblages of women ; then the 

lodark, intellectual face of Yane, "young in years, 
but in sage counsel old." Next would have 
appeared the successive Governors, Winthrop, 
Dudley, Bellingham, and Endicott, who sat in 
the chair while it Avas a Chair of State. Then 

15 its ample seat would have been pressed by the 
comfortable, rotund corporation of the honest 
mint-master. Then the half-frenzied shape of 
Mary Dyer, the persecuted Quaker woman, clad 
in sackcloth and ashes, would have rested in it 

20 for a moment. Then the holy apostolic form of 
Eliot would have sanctified it. Then would have 
arisen, like the shade of departed Puritanism, 
the venerable dignity of the white-bearded Gov- 
ernor Bradstreet. Lastly, on the gorgeous crim- 

25 son cushion of Grandfather's chair, would have 
shone the purple and golden magnificence of Sir 
William Phix)s. 

But all these, with the other historic person- 
ages in the midst of whom the chair had so often 
stood, had i^assed, both in substance and shadow, 



GRANDFATHER'S CHAIR 85 

from the scene of ages ! Yet here stood the 
chair, with the old Lincoln coat of arms, and 
the oaken flowers and foliage, and the fierce 
lion's head at the summit, the whole, apparently, 
in as perfect preservation as when it had first 
been placed in the Earl of Lincoln's hall. And 
what vast changes of society and of nations had 
been wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow 
degrees since that era ! 

" This chair had stood firm when the thrones i 
of kings were overturned!" thought Laurence. 
"Its oaken frame has proved stronger than many 
frames of government ! " 

More the thoughtful and imaginative boy 
might have mused ; but now a large yellow cat, i 
a great favorite with all the children, leaped in 
at the open window. Perceiving that Grand- 
father's chair was empty, and having often be- 
fore experienced its comforts, puss laid herself 
quietly down upon the cushion. Laurence, Clara, 2 
Charley, and little Alice all laughed at the idea 
of such a successor to the worthies of old times. 

"Pussy," said little Alice, putting out her 
hand, into which the cat laid a velvet paw, " you 
look very wise. Do tell us a story about Grand- 2 
father's Chair ! " 



THE END 



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